Rogue Province, Rogue Agent
by DeusExfreak
Summary: Sheltered and blindly loyal in youth, a Shadowscale given to the Brotherhood is about to find a world of betrayal, uncertainty, and moral ambiguity. In too many ways, her employers don't fit her original preceptions. Constructive criticism encouraged.
1. Introduction

RECENTLY UPDATED, ONCE AGAIN:

Hi there, reader. This chapter isn't truly part of the storyline, but I highly recommend you read it before you go onto the later chapters. This introduction is meant to clear up which sides I'm taking with seemingly contradictory pieces of lore, inform the reader of lore that is not well known, and list changes or creations I've made to the lore. I really hope it isn't considered a violation of this site's code of conduct even though it is relevant to the story.

Since the Pocket Guide to the Empire Third Edition has been released, I've decided to update this opening segment. Now, I'm assuming you played through the whole Dark Brotherhood questline. This story is loosely based on the Dark Brotherhood questline, and though it takes many liberties, including an alternate ending, there will be spoilers. Now, onto things worth noting when reading this story:

**The Black Hand (the ruling council of the brotherhood)**: The idea I got from the game was that there were multiple Dark Brotherhood sanctuaries scattered throughout Cyrodiil, each overseen by a "finger" of the Black Hand. I decided to do away with this idea.

Instead, assume the Cheydinhal Sanctuary is the only Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in CYRODIIL, but there are others in Tamriel: one in Morrowind, one in Skyrim, and one in High Rock. (The thumb being the Listener)

**Argonian Physiology**

I know Argonians looked different throughout the series. Because of this, I'd like to clarify that, when reading this story, you should picture them looking the way they did in Oblivion.

And please, don't lecture me on reptilian physiology: They are lizard(y)-PEOPLE, not lizards. Yeah, I know they're occasionally referred to as reptiles, but having the character being truly cold-blooded would complicate things, and probably make certain scenes (particularly ones in Bruma) impossible. So, when reading this story, think of them more as humans with lizardy characteristics, than lizards with humany characteristics. I'm aware full-blown lizards don't have breasts, don't sweat, and need to regulate their own body-temperatures. For this story Argonians are, however, a different case.

**Argonian Culture**

Keep in mind, this story will mostly be coming from the perspective of a Shadowscale. In this story, Shadowscales are shielded from culture and information in general in the name of "trusting" their superiours. They don't know much that isn't helpful to their line of work. They live very sheltered lives early on, and ultimately get shipped off to other provinces, so a Shadowscale's cultural upbringing might be noticably different from that of a normal Argonian: For this reason I didn't research/fill-out every aspect of Argonian culture.

However, you will notice some differences in the way the main character views the world (though this will change as she gets more assimilated into Cyrodillic culture, which happens with each chapter). For one, I decided it would be really impractical for Argonians to use the traditional race classification system of Oblivion because Black Marsh is so isolated. So, during the beginning of this story, she's mostly going to refer to everyone as human (this encompasses both men and mer), Khajiit, Orcish, Finned, Spiked, or Spined, the latter 3 are all different types of Argonians based on the different "hair-styles" available to Argonians in the game, which I made the assumption are derived from regional heritage in Black Marsh. However, human may also be used as a generic term for all those listed above. On the subject of race classification, also note "Cyrodiil" is another term for "Imperial" (though may also simply mean someone who lives in Cyrodiil).

Lastly, with regards to Argonian culture, I made the assumption that Argonians don't use stone much in their constructions because it would be hard to have a building which was extremely heavy on soggy ground.

**Argonian Government:**

This was one issue I had a bit of trouble with. Up until I met the assassin twins, I was under the impression Black Marsh (or Argonia) was just inhabited by an unorganized collection of tribes, which was one province because the emperor said so. However, the way the twins talk ("the mighty kingdom of Argonia") it sounds not only like Argonia's government is a lot more 'civilized' than a collection of tribes, but also like an independent nation.

Now, Pocket Guide to the Empire Third Edition says :

_Black Marsh's position in the Third Era has been much the same as it has been throughout the other times in history. The Empire finds strategic benefit in holding the coasts, and keeps its most dangerous criminals in Black rose and other dungeons closer to its interior. The heart of Black Marsh remains the sole province of the reptilian Argonians, and any further annexation of this area by Imperial forces seems unlikely._

And

_Beyond the reach of the Empire, there is little supervision of the inner swamplands, and it is unknown whether or not these areas even recognize Imperial rule of the Province. _

So, apparently the exact nature of how much law and order exists there still wasn't clear. A bunch of tribes and a "mighty kingdom of Argonia" sound like a bit of a contradiction, so I decided to compromise between these two ideas:

This "mighty kingdom of Argonia" goes a long way to keep power solely in its own hands, and isn't really about much more than self-preservation. For this reason, it doesn't care to help its people rise from their primitive state; in fact, it may prefer them that way. If you still have questions about this "mighty kingdom of Argonia", well, good. More will be revealed as the story goes.

**Language:**

In this story, Cyrodiillic is a language identical to English. However, please note some dialogue in this story will be in the Argonian language. Such text will be **bolded, like this**. Keep in mind, this dialogue is not supposed to be a literal translation; Its simply trying to capture the essence of the conversation. I should also point out Argonian names are translated during dialogue in Argonian. Because Shadowscales spend their whole life training to be, or actually being, assassins, their names derive from behaviors they exhibit during training, or how they expect these behaviors to play out in their career as an assassin. That's why the main character has a name like **"Fights-up-close"**. Because these names could arouse suspicion, I decided all the Shadowscales have code-names as well, which sound more typical (for example, "Scar-tail" is just a code name in this story).

**Female Soldiers:**

Whether there are supposed to be female soldiers in the Legion and various forms of city-watch was never really clear to me. Its odd that you see female guard captains, but almost not female low ranking soldiers. Anyway, for this story, I decided to assume the city-watch roles weren't limited to only men, but the Imperial Legion (which is more of a military than a police force) was.

**The Effect of Birthsigns:**

The information regarding the extent birthsign effects a person in the Elder Scrolls universe isn't clear. In the in-game books, it sounds as if the whole concept might as well be a superstition. Still, in terms of _your _character, your birthsign grants you some pretty potent powers that no one could deny truly exist.

For this story, I decided that those born under the sign of the Shadow are more unique, and it is one of the only birthsigns with a clear and provable effect.

**Accents**:

Though no such concept was really present in Oblivion, I thought it would make sense that each province had its own local accent. I'll leave exactly what these accents would sound like up to you, but keep an eye out from references to concepts like "a thick Nordic accent".

**Scale:**

In the game, I'm sure Cyrodiil's "true" size was scaled down so that the game wouldn't take decades to produce. For this story, however, imagine Cyrodiil being significantly larger and more populated than it is in the game.

**Renrijra Krin**:

You'll hear this organization mentioned a few times in this story. Appearantely its not common knowledge exactly what this organization is about, but Pocket Guide to the Empire Third Edition sums it up nicely by saying:

_In the east, the long disputed border with the Cyrodilic County Leyawiin was recently resolved in Cyrodiil's favor, after an agreement between the current Mane and the Count of Leyawiin. But a group of Khajiit bandits known as the Renrijra Krin has taken up the cause of returning the land to Elsweyr, and the West Niben remains a trouble spot._

Lastly, I'd like to thank Ma'iq the Liar for helping me with the Elder Scrolls lore. At the time I'd started this story I'd only played Oblivion, so I wasn't the most knowledgable person on the lore.


	2. Welcome to Cyrodiil

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with earlier reviews and the author's notes (A/N) of unrevised chapters.

The name of whose perspective the section will follow is above the line, and any segment of story separated by lines without a change of perspective is a flash back.

Second seed, 29, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Black Wood

* * *

I knew I was close, even though I could see nothing promising through the thick, swampy forest. I was told it would be about a four hour walk, and I'd already passed that much time. It was quite possibly the worst four hours of my life, with the exception of my assignment on the Morrowind border. My legs ached, my throat felt painfully dry, the hot humid air was like a steam bath mercilessly coating every-inch of my body; My tail had already picked up so much filth, which I _hoped_ was all mud, and my "adventuring" shoes were already so soaked I could feel the water shift in them with every step I took. As if the terrain wasn't enough, I'd already been bitten by so many bugs it seemed like pricks of pain and itchiness were popping up randomly on my body. It really made me think a bit about the life some of the tribals had to live, and it was a shame it was so difficult for the Argonian Royal Court to help them. 

I knew I'd never take clean clothing and fresh water for granted again. I had been given a canteen for the trip, but drank it all within the first couple of hours. I didn't have room to pack more, given all I'd be carrying for my stay in Cyrodiil, and that made this last hour so intolerable. I could have cut my trip down to three hours if I'd taken a direct root, but thanks to the screw-up of a previous Shadowscale sent to Leyawiin with what the Countess perceived as the intent to assassinate her, Argonians no longer received a warm welcome there, according to **Learns-fast**.

To avoid getting interrogated by the Countess, I had to get to the road a good deal North of the city, travel South, and say I was visiting from Bravil. The stories I'd heard about the interrogations which took place inside the castle hurt just to think about.

I mourned the loss of any of my fellow Shadowscales, but right now I was frustrated at his failure years ago. The only good thing about his failure was that it reminded me of the risks involved in these missions, which instilled a useful caution in me.

Then I saw something through the trees that appeared to be the river and the road. Though I regarded it with cynicism at first, not wanting to get my hopes only so they could to fall to the ground, it soon became undeniable.

I was filled with a momentary bliss and satisfaction at the sight. A pleasure as pure as any I'd ever felt flowed through me. I had no plan on drinking the water, but civilization in any form, even as simple as a road, was beautiful after the long walk. With my destination so close, the ache in my legs and dirt on my clothing seemed more like a competitor than an aspect of suffering now.

I walked over towards a nearby rock to sit down.

I enjoyed the simple pleasure of relaxation briefly as I began to plan my arrival in the city.

As I pondered my arrival in County Leyawiin, I remembered the scroll I was given. I was told to read it when I arrived in Cyrodiil.

I removed my back-pack, feeling wonderfully light and liberated, and reached in. Inside was a rolled up piece of parchment which I recognized as the scroll I was told to read. I unraveled it, enjoying a sound that poetically captured the secret and deadly lifestyle of the Shadowscale, an image which I was proud to live by.

**Greetings faithful spy,**

**I hope I do you no dishonor by not addressing you by name or rank, but the secrecy behind this mission is of utmost importance. You know of your allegiances, your real name, and your codename , but the enemy does not.** **It must stay this way, and this is the main reason we did not pack you with your uniform for this assignment. Though you should prevent this letter from ending up in the hands of the Countess at all cost, we must still take precautions even if something so unthinkable were to happen. Remember Climbs-out-of-sight's blunder, as we do not want a repeat. Hopefully your initial briefing on the situation was thorough enough, because there are many details of this mission I cannot mention. Secrecy has always been our ally.**

**First off, welcome to **Cyrodiil**! We are aware the idea of being in foreign territory may be somewhat daunting, even with all you've been taught about the **Cyrodillic** language and culture, but fear not; Leyawiin has a significant and largely relatively unassimilated Argonian population, so you are unlikely to arouse any suspicion with your mere presence. With your 20****th**** birthday approaching, we think this assignment should serve as good practice in the process of slowly easing your way into **Cyrodillic** culture, as will be required with your "transfer".**

**Now, onto the specifics on this mission: Attached, you will find a map of castle **Leyawiin**, as well as a list of some important individuals who reside there. However, the list has been narrowed down to several who have the most potential to supply information. Remember, **Countess Alessia Caro** is who you were ultimately sent to spy on.**

**Keep in mind, the information we gathered may not be completely accurate. It has been gathered primarily through spies like yourself, as well as the interrogation of various Cyrodiil settlers in our country. Because you are not the last spy we will likely be sending to Castle **Leyawiin**, and because all of those interrogated are no longer available for further questioning, it would be greatly helpful if you could confirm as many pieces of information from the attached documents as possible. Our interrogations have been drawing a considerable amount of attention in Cyrodiil (reported as "disappearances"), so, again, don't under-estimate the importance of your role in this mission, as keeping an eye on **Leyawiin** has become increasingly difficult recently.**

**Due to your experience and past loyalty, we are, for a change, leaving your method of execution for this mission largely up to you. You may extract information as you chose. If you can, we suggest you make contact with the **Renridjra Krin**, as they may have already uncovered information they would be willing to share with you if they were aware of your mission. This may be difficult, however, as that group is largely secretive and with good reason. As of now they'd have little reason to trust you. **

**You are to meet with Goes-in-heavy (or, as he has been code-named: **Scar-tail**) upon arrival at the **Five Claws Lodge **Though you may or may not be working together for this assignment, a rendezvous is still recommended as **"Scar-tail"** has more extensive experience spying on the counties of Bravil and Leyawiin, and will likely be able to assist you.**

**You are to report back to our headquarters in Gideon sanctuary in one week. **

**Most importantly, DO NOT CONFESS YOUR AFFILIATIONS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. If you are captured, we recommend suicide, as the Countess is infamous for her brutal methods of interrogation, and escape is highly unlikely even for someone of your abilities.**

**Good luck**

Remembering **Goes-in-heavy**'s code-name, I predicted, would be fairly difficult, given I'd only begun to truly remember mine: **Swims-the-shore**. It was obviously a name I was less proud of than **Fights-up-close**, but our real-names would no doubt arouse suspicion to anyone who knew our language.

I flipped to the attached document:

Tsavi

**Appearance: **Khajiit**, female**

**Role: Castle mage**

**Notes: Though she plays no role in political affairs, she spends much time in the presence of the **Count**. Not likely to be rich in information, but extraction should be relatively easy.**

**Traveler-for-knowledge**

**Appearance: Spined, female, scale color unclear, distinguishably long tail**

**Role: Chief advisor to the Count. **

**Notes: Bound to have much information on the current events of the **Leyawiin** government, and extraction should be relatively easy. Recommended starting point.**

Hlidara Mothril

**Appearance: Tall, female, human**

**Role: Chief advisor to the Countess**

**Notes: While surely a great source of information, more so than either of the above, extraction of this information would be a difficult process. **

Countess Caro

**Appearance: Female, human**

**Role: Count's wife; plays a major role in political affairs, possibly more than the Count himself.**

**Notes: Disdainful of Argonians in any form. Be cautious. Ultimately it is her you are looking for information on, but simply being in her presence could prove dangerous.**

Count Caro

**Appearance: Male, human**

**Role: Leyawiin's leader in an official sense, but very impressionable. **

**Notes: Very little is understood. Reports seem conflicting; obtaining information on this man should be your secondary objective.**

**Keep in mind, these are mere recommendations, you are not limited to these people.**

I rolled-up the scroll once again and put it in my pocket for quicker reference. I waited for the ache in my legs to pass before getting up again, taking time to admire the glistening river as a distraction. The sun was setting, making the water look like liquid gold, with a shine more pure and beautiful than any metal.

I glanced to my left and noticed how close I was to the city. At first it just appeared to be a visual jumble, with colors and shapes my mind couldn't quite assign well to words, but then I realized I was looking at, Leyawiin itself. It was a surreal sight; A wall, far taller than any person, long enough to encase a city, with protrusions on top so evenly spaced they couldn't have come from nature, yet made completely of stone. All the stone had been carved and shaped like mere wood. I guess the idea wasn't that extraordinary, given that I'd seen the Legion soldiers march around in metal uniforms in border areas of Argonia, but it was certainly nothing I'd ever thought of. I closely examined all the thoughts running through my head, as I knew this would make a great story to tell the younger agents when I returned to Gideon. It all felt so dreamy. Being here really made me start thinking outside the box. That was the famous, or possibly infamous, County Leyawiin I was heading towards, no doubt, and I was excited to take a closer look. Creative images of what the interior of such a strange city might look like were rushing through my head, though none really seemed to click as logical ideas because the whole concept seemed impossible to begin with. I pushed myself up from the rock and started walking down the road towards the city.

I could hear the water in my shoes making noise as I walked, but I knew the increased exposure to the sun would start to dry them off. Given the distance between me and Leyawiin, most of what the great stone enclosure looked like was left to my imagination. To some extent I still couldn't quite figure out what I was seeing.

(Champion of Cyrodiil): Chorrol

* * *

As I passed by the church I could feel what little pleasure the bright and sunny day had brought wash away. The comfort was a bandage, but the wound wouldn't heal. The church brought my thoughts back to the Gods, which brought me back to the raw, life-marring uncertainties that faced me. I longed for the return of my ignorance.

* * *

I quivered with a bizarre emotional concoction as I lifted the bands from the "dead" Dremora's body. It wasn't him I felt any kind of emotion towards: this was a game to the immortals, and I could kill them without pity or vengeful satisfaction. It was the people here I felt for, and the people back home who would soon be enveloped by this blatant evil if I didn't find and kill Mankar. 

I looked closely at the odd and intricate bands, trying to figure out how to lock them onto my arm.

This didn't feel like the same war anymore. Heaven and Hell had been mixed. I witnessed the power of the enemy, but any demoralization through fear was compensated with the new reasons I saw to fight them. Mankar's efforts were the lever to a universe of suffering. Everyone who had come here seemed to see that. Now I felt the same kinship with my former enemies as with my friends. It was dreamy, nightmarish, epic, and overwhelming. Even my more basic perceptions were getting shattered here. I was getting feelings that dug deeper into my soul than any I'd known before.

I fastened one band around my arm. I knew I couldn't rest until Mankar was dead. Every bit of thought was centered around ending this "Paradise". I was enveloped by a destructive passion as true as any. I was proud to hold my blood-stained sword infront of his plans.

I fastened the second band. The words of the former Mythic Dawn members wrung in my head. There were tears, whimpers, or jealousy right behind every voice.

_"Everyone here died in the master's service. As the master promised, we are now immortal, like the daedra. But living here is a nightmare! The creatures of the Garden torment us endlessly! When we are killed, we are soon reborn and cycle begins again."_

_"Your quarrel is with Mankar Camoran, not us poor fools."_

_"Are you here to end this nightmare and free us all from the Savage Garden?"_

Bitter-sweetness was the one way to describe this place. I felt a mixed emotions at seeing the once indistinct acolytes of the mythic dawn becoming people I could feel for. I saw the beauty and hideousness of this "Paradise". My motivations felt purer and cleaner than ever, but my fear was greater.

I looked over the bands one more time, rolling my wrists. I wasn't quite sure what could possibly be wrong here, but paranoia had become a habit of mine. Two had already died simply due to my own carelessness. I'd learned caution.

I bent down to pick up my katana, which I'd laid down on the ground while fastening the bands. It glimmered in the soft sunlight of "Paradise", a beauty deceptive as everything here. I held it at my side, ready and eager to unleash the passion bubbling inside me on anyone or anything that stood in my way. This wasn't for me, or Martin, or the Empire. This was for everyone.

I tensed briefly before I took my first step onto the white gold bridge, marking the beginning of my intrusion into the area guarded by the Dremora I'd slain. Yes, I was going to the Forbidden Grotto. I would fight my way in, and I would defeat Camoran and Dagon.

Then it was Mankar Camoran's voice again. I didn't know if I was the only one who could hear him, but he sounded almost outraged. "How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon!" He seemed to have read my mind.

I continued down the white-gold bridge, this time with more confidence, taking pleasure in disregarding him and his horrible system. _I've made it this far. Will and skill can prevail_. I had never known passions like I knew now.

"The principalities have sparkled like gems since the first mortal." _Yes, I must prevail._ Then we could return to comfort, predictability, and simplicity. "Many are their names and the names of their masters." Yes, he was rambling now. "The cold harbor of Meridia. Peryite's Quagmire. The Ten Moonshadows of Mephala and..." He stopped as if bracing himself for the next words. _I don't care what he has to say anymore._ I continued walking, my mind on my objective. I could feel the rest of Tamriel with me in spirit. I finally stepped onto the soft earth at the end of the bridge. I would cut through his rhetoric and defenses and in the end Tamriel would bask in the unity it gained through its collective struggle against him

"...and Dawn's Beauty, princedom of Lorkhan, misnamed Tamriel by deluded mortals."

Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. I felt cold.

I stood, frozen, unsure how to react to what I'd just heard. It was a disorienting blow to my mind.

Then I could hear the smile in Mankar's voice, his words slithering into me like a snake "Yes, you understand now. Tamriel is but one more Daedric Realm of Oblivion."

* * *

I tried to untangled myself from the captivating power of the memory. I could only hope he was wrong because there was nothing we could do. If we were all to eventually suffer like in "Paradise", there was no point in suffering in those kinds of thoughts now. 

But why did the Nine put us through so much tragedy and injustice? They knew of our good faith, they knew we willed to restore the Dragon Fires, and yet they let us suffer.

Even the friendly, prosperous town of Chorrol, with green grass and blue skies, didn't look pretty when I knew such ugly forces might be working behind it.

* * *

I rattled the bars, pushing, pulling, and shaking aimlessly to break down the cage. If he remained a prisoner in Oblivion, he would face suffering that could be neither worse nor less deserved. 

"Don't worry about me! There's no time!" He said, almost angrily "Get to the Sigil Tower before its too late!"

* * *

An immense pity for him and frustration at the mechanics of the universe washed over me as I remembered closing that gate and never seeing him again. Most likely he was still in Oblivion, suffering endlessly for his heroics. That was true heroism, and I hated the concept. It was a truth that could bring me to tears. Evil was the dominant force in the world. There was no other way. It was a truth that cast a shadow over everything. I realized this through the Oblivion Crisis. There was no such thing as a bright future. 

My revelations didn't make my fate as bad as his, but even with the crisis over, there were still burdens, still fear, and still tragedy. I was constantly stressed with questions. _Should I try to find a way to help bring the Empire out of chaos? Shouldn't I put an image as influential as mine to use for someone else's good? What about that prisoner and his plans for Vardenfell? He'd need to be stopped even if I didn't have proof to show the guards. _It was my duty, as a soldier of good, to answer the questions that I'd imprinted in my mind. I was constantly dragging the weight of righteousness. My own ethics constantly marred my existence, and taunted me with opportunities to be blissfully free by shunning virtue.

All those burdens were proof that war was never over. As long as there was will, there was war. It was the war between good and evil. It was a brutal battlefield in my own mind. It was the crushing, painful truth, but it had only started to sink when the ecstacy of our victory in the Oblivion Crisis began to fade away.

I noticed Dar-ma on the sidewalk to my right. I knew I should avoid her. That was an attitude that was becoming more and more prevalent with people I knew in general as time went on. There was too much to sort out in my own mind to spend any energy in the outside world. I had duties no one could see, and their relentlessness was so draining.

I tried to look like I didn't notice her and, somehow, look busy. I looked to my left, watching windows and doors pass by as I walked.

A woman was handing out free copies of the Black Horse Courier on that sidewalk.

I'd hated reading the news these days. The stories were like quicksand for my thoughts: I'd analyze their implications endlessly, sink into their sorrow, and go through quite an effort to pull myself out. It always made it hard to get out of bed in the morning when I knew bad news awaited: Ever since the initial mirth of our victory died down, all I'd heard of was news of the Empire falling apart. The Elder Council tried to put a positive spin on it, but the message between the lines was always disturbing, and witnessing the Oblivion Crisis first hand while reading their updates certainly taught me how to read between the lines.

With a bit of willpower, I began walking to the news lady. I was tensing as I considered I might read about another brewing conflict or tragedy. Now that the Emperor was gone, I always feared of reading about the death that would push the Empire over the edge and into war.

Tucking stacks of paper on her right side, passing out papers with her left hand, she offered one to everyone who walked by her. Maybe about one fifth actually took the offer.

As I got close, she stretched out her hand to me without saying a word. That motion was probably a reflex to her by now. I grabbed the copy.

I turned back in the direction I was originally walking.

I looked down at the paper, wondering briefly if I was damning myself to more discouragement or fear.

_**Night Mother Rituals!**_

**_SPECIAL EDITION!_**

**_NIGHT MOTHER RITUALS ON THE RISE!_**

_"And won't be tolerated!"  
warns Imperial Legion._

_The Imperial City -- pinnacle of art, entertainment, scholarship... and ritualistic murder? So says Adamus Phillida, commander of the Imperial Legion forces in the Imperial City, and a staunch opponent of the mysterious assassin's guild known as the Dark Brotherhood. According to Phillida, Imperial Legion soldiers have discovered thirteen separate instances of the macabre "Black Sacrament," a sinister rite purportedly used to summon a member of the Dark Brotherhood, in order to arrange an assassination. _

_Whether or not a card-carrying killer shows up on a ritual performer's doorstep remains to be seen, but the Black Sacrament itself is very real, and truly the stuff of nightmares. As documented in the rare and taboo work "A Kiss, Sweet Mother," the Black Sacrament involves an effigy of the intended victim -- created from actual body parts, including a heart, skull, bones and flesh -- within a circle of candles. To proceed with the ritual, one must stab the effigy repeatedly with a dagger rubbed with the petals of a Nightshade plant, while whispering the plea, "Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." As gruesome as this ritual may be, even more frightening is its intention -- the summoning of a mysterious assassin (who some witnesseses claim is always clad in a black hooded robe) who will then receive money to kill an innocent victim. No remorse. No regret. It is, as the merchant's say, simply business. And that's what worries Adamus Phillida. _

_"This brazen increase in Night Mother rituals is an affront to the decent, peace-loving citizens of the Empire. The Imperial Legion exists for one reason and one reason only -- to protect and serve the people of Tamriel. How in Azura's name can we do that when people take it upon themselves to contact paid assassins and have innocent people murdered? How can I sleep at night knowing my Legion can't possibly save the life of someone marked for death by the Dark Brotherhood? Anyone who carries out this "Black Sacrament" makes a mockery of the Imperial Legion, and as Commander, that's something I just can't tolerate. From this point forward, any citizen found in the possession of items related to the Night Mother ritual will be incarcerated in the Imperial Prison indefinitely, and their property seized by the Empire. There's no fine high enough, no standard prison sentence long enough, for the type of malcontent who would show such a blatant disregard for our dear Emperor's laws and the wellfare of the fine people of Tamriel" _

_To be sure, Adamus Phillida is not one to issue empty threats. Indeed, the Black Horse Courier has learned that one Claudius Arcadia, until recently a resident of the Talos Plaza District of the Imperial City, is now residing in a cold, dank cell in the Imperial Prison, and his house has become the newest Imperial Legion outpost. So before you take the law into your own hands, dear reader, remember -- you'll go further in life with a warm smile than a cold blade. And if you've got a grudge that won't be soothed, a score that can't be settled, you can always move to Morrowind and have the government-sanctioned Morag Tong do the killing for you. _

(**Fights-up-close**): County Leyawiin

* * *

Now I could make out the shape of a human body, a guard most likely, but he wasn't in the Imperial Legion uniform. He seemed to be guarding the city gate. 

I couldn't help but feel a bit tense as I started walking towards the guard. Why, I couldn't exactly pin-point. The letter said I wouldn't arouse any suspicion and, of course, I trusted my superiors. Still, I found I was inadvertently holding my breath as I walked past the guard, wondering what he thought of me. I could feel his gaze, though I felt apprehensive to look over and confirm it. He seemed perfectly willing to let me enter the city gates, none the less.

The sun was already setting, likely **Goes-in-heavy** would be eating dinner at the "Five Claws Lodge", where-ever that was, so the timing seemed perfect. There was another soldier standing at the other side of the city entrance, who I decided to ask for directions.

I had to muster up a bit of courage to speak; despite meeting countless trainers from the Dark Brotherhood, it would be my first conversation with a Cyrodiil in the strictest sense of the word. I was told it was conventional to start these conversations with "Excuse me,", and that's exactly what I did, but after the long walk of silence my own voice surprised even me a little. Once I'd gotten her attention, I asked for directions to the "Five Claws Lodge".

"Its across from the gate you arrived here in, just keep heading straight. Its at the side of town nearest to the Elswyer border." She spoke so fast that it took me a while to analyze exactly what she had said. I always found reading Cyrodillic considerably easier than listening to it, but when it was spoken it usually sounded like a random jumble of exotic gibberish for the first couple of seconds.

I did as she instructed, walking straight down the city road. Reality became secondary in my mind as I reflected on all that was transpiring; It was my reunion with **Goes-in-heavy**, or Scar-tail as I needed to get used to thinking of him of that was my main focus. With all I'd seen in my first few minutes, I was sure his experiences over the last few days would be interesting.

I did my best to soak up the ambience of it all; this was my first experience outside of Argonia, and a really fascinating one already. With each building I looked at, my mind drifted off in wonder at what the inside of each could look like. The whole city seemed to be built with an amazing degree of control over the environment. Countless stones had been removed and reshaped; Water had been channeled into pools specifically for swimming; Minerals I didn't even recognize covered the windows the houses. It all seemed to defy the laws of nature, and I couldn't even begin to imagine the process behind all these constructions There were plenty of others on the streets; The letter wasn't exaggerating as, somewhat to my surprise, about a sixth of them were other Argonians.

But there was a third concept just as prevalent in my mind, food. The long walk had invoked a passionate, almost savage hunger in me. I'd been provided 120 Septims for my stay, which was supposedly enough for a cheap Inn, 3 meals a day, and some cheaper extras on the side.

When I saw the gate, I looked to my left and, sure enough, there was the "Five Claws Lodge". Knowing what that meant in Cyrodillic, I had no idea what the name was trying to imply.

I opened the door to the Lodge with a creek. It carried a sort of old, rustic feel to it. I sat down on one of the stools, though its surface was unwelcomingly hard, and politely wrapped my tail close to my legs. But there was no sign of **Goes-in-heavy** or anyone else in fact besides the publican, a finned woman standing behind the counter.

"Welcome to the Five Claws Lodge. Food and beds, cheap and good, but most of all your hostess promises: always clean." Her Cyrdollic was considerably more fluent than mine, I couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. She slid a menu over to me. Before I took a look at it, I decided to ask about "Scar-tail". I chose to use Cyrodillic;

"Do you know anyone by the name Scar-tail to be staying here?" I asked.

"No." She said simply "A friend of yours?"

"Yes." I responded automatically. I guessed it was more or less true, but the question hadn't really registered in my mind before I responded.

I assumed he was just late, and took a look at the menu. Though it contained nothing which could really pass off as cuisine, there certainly were some exotic items. Right now, I wanted whatever was quickest and heartiest, though those two were a difficult combination. I decided just to order buttered potatoes, as they seemed to be the quickest to prepare: Taste wasn't a huge priority right now.

With "Scar-tail" still not present, I had some decisions I would reluctantly need to think about, but I really didn't feel I had any logical base to begin to make my decisions on. Should I wait for **Goes-in-heavy **and start my duties later, but with better information, or not wait for him, and start my duties sooner, but with worse information? I couldn't really see any way to weigh the two decisions, but perhaps it was because hunger cutting off my thoughts.

By the time I was handed the plate, with the necessary utensils, my hand was shaking. I almost forgot about my own ego as I gobbled down the food like an animal, barely even analyzing the taste.

I pushed away my plate, and took out 13 Septims, then said "I'll take a room as well." As I waited for her to organize the cash she'd just received, as well as retrieve a room key, I tried to begin thinking about my decision regarding "Scar-tail", but again my thoughts went nowhere. I hoped, at least with some quiet time, I might receive some sort of miraculous enlightenment.

"Very well. Use room number 2. If you need food or drink, just let me know." Said the publican, then smiled warmly and placed the key on the table with a satisfying clink. Even though it wasn't as luxurious as my quarters in Gideon, the friendliness of the hostess was comforting. I started to notice I was already feeling slightly home-sick, however, so the feeling of comfort was considerably diluted; It had been almost a year since I slept in a bed other than my own.

I pushed myself from the chair and turned. Room 2 was the first thing I saw.

The door opened with a creak. I shut and locked the door, then surveyed the room briefly. The wood looked like it could splinter easily, and the room was pretty much undecorated except for a rug. The bed didn't look particularly comfortable either. Still, it had a desk and lantern, and that was a welcome perk, and, as she promised, everything looked clean. That was probably good for a "**cheap **Inn".

I sat down on the bed and tried to think the issue over, but all I could do was repeat the two possibilities in my head; No points or counter-points formed. Each time I started leaning towards one approach, the other started to nag me. I eventually decided to compromise; I would take a walk around town, perhaps even enter the castle, but try nothing so bold as breaking into private quarters.

Before I went back out onto the streets, however, I put the back-pack I'd been given, which contained all the supplies I'd need for the mission, on the table.

It contained quite a few items: The two documents I'd been given from **Learns-fast**, a blank piece of parchment I was told to use to keep notes on my findings, a filled and sealed ink-well, a couple of quills, a few lock-picks, some torches, more than one change of clothing and shoes, Manual of Spellcraft, and my custom made dagger I'd been given at age fourteen, so it amounted to a heavy load which I was glad rid myself of, though the ache in my shoulders remained.

I immediately removed the soggy shoes from my feet, placing them near the door without touching the rug.

I did the same with the rest of my clothing, then took out two fresh items of clothing I had packed. My mind was on this city as I did so. There seemed to be so much to see, do, explore, and investigate here.

Clean clothing never felt so nice: that was another luxury I made mental note to appreciate for the rest of my life.

Feeling cooler and cleaner, I exited my room and then the rustic old Lodge entirely.

The city still seemed like such a technological marvel to me, and invoked all kinds of deep, sophisticated emotions in me. I had to admit, I felt slightly jealous of the inhabitants of Cyrodiil. It was humblizing, given that the only basis of comparison I had to our sanctuaries were cities like Gideon, and the encampments inhabited by the tribals. Now was not the time for drifting off into thought, though. Now was the time to get accustomed to the lay out of the city, particularly getting a good idea of where the castle was, and keep a sharp eye out for **Goes-in-heavy**.

The side-walks were decorated with various signs, each attached to a shop, which was made of intricately woven stones and metals. They seemed to have almost god-like control over elements of Nirn those in Argonia never even bothered to tamper with. The sheer stability of the ground it was built on was amazing as well, given the weight of the buildings.

When the string of shops ended, I found myself face to face with the castle. There were two doors, presumably one led to the roads, and the other to the castle, but it was unclear which was which. Both doors were of equal size, with stone, bent like rubber in some incomprehenable way, around their edges. Both had one guard posted at them.

I realized this would be a great excuse to end up in the castle. I walked to the nearest door before being intercepted by a guard.

"What's your business here, ma'am?" He asked.

"Taking a walk." I responded, which was actually accurate, even though the idea of lying to a henchman of Lady Leyawin wouldn't have phased me.

"Well, listen, there's an Orc named Mazoga in there who says she's a knight. I doubt it, but the Count wants it looked into. Maybe you could go into the Castle and check it out?"

This was certainly a lucky turn of events. Though I hated being thrown into these situations, this would be an excellent way to justify my presence in the castle. Yet, no doubt, this had very limited amount of time to be taken advantage of and without time to mentally prepare, the task seemed rather stressful.

"I'm not busy right now. I'll see what I can do." I responded, and turned to face what must have been the castle doors.

Opening the doors revealed an equally magnificent sight. The interior was almost like cave, but with the neatness only civilized life could have constructed, with the stone molded into distinct hallways for nothing more than simple convenience.

I continued to go straight as I marveled at the dreamy constructions. The columns supporting the massive weight overhead seemed to be decoratively carved on every inch; it was barely recognizable has stone, amazingly enough. I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as images of the stone falling on my head started to seep into my mind, despite that the structure must have been stable to hold all this time. Even so, there was something...fun about being in enemy territory while they were none the wiser.

As I got to the throne room, I noted neither the Count or his wife were present. However, someone spined woman was standing on the balcony above the thrones. I assumed that was **Traveler-for-knowledge**, though I couldn't see much more than her face with my angle of view. I started to formulate a conversation in my head. I'd need to start off by asking about Mazoga, but somehow steer the conversation towards politics. I couldn't think of anything, but standing and pondering would no doubt arouse suspicion.

When I approached, she was seemingly lost in thought, but as I got closer, she was abruptly snapped back to reality. Almost as if to apologize, she immediately extended her hand and spoke first. I panicked briefly at the gesture before remembering the "hand-shake" custom. I shook her hand, though I noticed how clammy my own hands were in the process, and felt slightly embarrassed.

"On-Staya Sundew." She introduced herself "Chief advisor to Count Leyawiin...in theory."

It was certainly an interesting introduction "In theory?" I inquired.

She looked back across the balcony, and drummed her fingers while releasing a long stream of air, as if drifting back into her world of thought. Once she'd released the last of her breath, she inhaled and turned back to me as if she'd just made a decision of some sort.

"You're new in town, am I right?" She said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

"From Bravil." I said, which was my cover-story.

She looked away again, paused briefly, then turned back. "Leyawiin has always been a melting pot of races and cultures. Of course, racial and cultural conflicts produce inefficiencies and confusion." She once again paused, as if she had some reason not to continue. She, none the less, decided to:

"I fear Lady Leyawiin and Hlidara Mothril plan to push the minorities aside, and establish a bland, Imperial-dominated culture here in Leyawiin." She stated. I felt immensely satisfied, I had gained some information already, and what I'd heard didn't sound nearly as bad as what the Argonia had initially expected. Still, I needed to continue this conversation as long as I could before On-staya realized exactly how strange the conversation was.

"Go on." I said, hoping to subtly coax more information out of her.

"Well, you don't need to hear any more from me. I'm sure you came here for a different reason." She replied.

"I don't mind." I said, being purposely vague. I tried to gauge exactly where the line for suspicious behavior was in her mind, and planned to fall back on Mazoga to excuse my presence if I felt I was starting to cross it.

"No, really" She insisted "I'm fine. Just tell me who or what you're looking for, and I'll do my best to point you in that direction." It again took me a bit of time to decipher exactly what she had said.

"Mazoga," I responded "Do you know where she is?"

"Oh, no." She responded "I'm afraid that's not my...area." Giving me only a vague idea of what she meant.

"Right," I responded "I'll ask around." Ironically ignorance seemed to be power under these circumstances, and her inability to answer my question was liberating, as it gave me an excuse to continue wandering. I tried one of the doors to the upper level of the castle, but it was locked. Hopefully I could find someone else who had been on the list. Once I thoroughly roamed the castle, I would go back to the Lodge, check for "Scar-tail" again, and write down my findings.

As I looked back down at the lower levels, I noticed a few people heading towards a door on the right of the throne room. On-staya was now walking back down the stairs too, I decided to follow until I was close to the throne room entrance. Then I could start a conversation with the next person to enter. The next person I saw was a towering women, who I suspected was Hilidara Mothrone, or whatever her name was.

"Excuse me," I said, though it still felt a bit awkward to start every conversation with those words "Would you be someone to know why Mazoga is here?"

"No," She started "I am Hlidara Mothril. Lady Leyawiin's chaplain and chief advisor. I assist her ladyship so her enlightened policies might have the greatest possible influence over county Leyawiin."

"Interesting..." I said, since the conversation seemed to be going in the correct direction. She was already starting to walk towards the room the others had gone in, which, judging by the smells, was where dinner was being served. I didn't want to lose her just yet "I'm new in town, anything I should know...about these policies?" I knew it was somewhat of a poorly phrased sentence, but hopefully it would confuse her enough to get her to spew some general information.

"Leyawin is in a state of transition." She said "It has long been a respected county, making moderate economic contributions to the Empire. However, Leyawin must move towards the main stream of Imperial culture both in trade and political affairs. You've picked a fateful time to come here." Before she I could ask anything else she was already walking towards the dining room.

I decided I'd save myself anymore information gathering, at least until dinner had ended, and started to head back to the Lodge. There I could record my current findings, as well as check to see if Scar-tail had arrived. We'd have plenty of material for conversation, and our reunion would certainly be under interesting circumstances.


	3. MIA

A/N: Note this chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Second seed 26, 4E1

**Second seed 20:**

**-Arrived in **Leyawiin** at 7:00pm, "**Scar-tail**" late**

**-Decided to head to the castle, interviewed 2 subjects briefly: **Hlidara Mothril **and Traveler-for-knowledge. Neither gave any indication of a plan for Imperial invasion. Instead, it seems the **Countess** wants no business with outsiders. Traveler-for-knowledge seems to view the idea negatively, however.**

**-7:30pm, Goes-in-heavy still not present.**

**-** **11:00pm, I decided to call it a night. Going to bed early, hopefully "**Scar-tail**" will arrive tomorrow.**

**Second seed 21:**

**-Still no sign of Goes-in-heavy**

**-Overheard an unsettling conversation, making references to the "disappearances" you mentioned in the scroll.**

**-Talked to a **khajiit** by the name of **Shomara**. Apparently the people of **Leyawin** realize our fears.**

**-Still no sign of him. **

**-11:30pm , going to sleep**

**Second seed 22:**

**-"**Scar-tail**" still nowhere to be found**

**-Infiltrated castle torture chambers and prison in search of Goes-in-heavy. No luck, both were empty of him or any other allies.**

**-Met **Tsavi**, conversation almost identical to that with Traveler-for-knowledge**.

**-12:00, ending my day**

**Second seed 23:**

**-Given up hope finding Goes-in-heavy.**

**-Followed Traveler-for-knowledge from the castle. She didn't see me, but by the time she returned to the castle I had witnessed nothing suspicious.**

**-Inadvertently met the **Countess** herself, though she was far from friendly, her words still pointed towards the ideas of **Tsavi, Hlidara, **etc** **(no threat of an invasion)**

**-12:00am, going to bed.**

**Second seed 24:**

**-Rumors of a **Renrijra Krin** attack by the Elsewyre border. A member of the Imperial Legion was killed, but the attackers had escaped long before I could make any sort of contact.**

**-Infiltrated the room of the **Countess**, though I found nothing of interest other than the **Countess**'s** **fascination with "**the elder scrolls**".** **I'll bring this document to you.**

**-11:30am, going to bed.**

**Second seed 25:**

**-Owner of **Five Claws Lodge **seems to sympathize with the **Countess**. Perhaps future assignments shouldn't lodge operatives here.**

**-Talking to and over-hearing a couple of **Leyawiin**'s guard captains seems to indicate they have their hands full dealing with the **Renrijra Krin**. Another indication **County Leyawiin **presents little threat.**

**-Infiltrated the castle once more, still nothing to report**.

**-12:00am, going to bed**

**Second seed 26:**

**-Heading back to Gideon.**

For some reason, I felt like reading the paper repeatedly before I gave it to **Learns-fast**. I guessed it was partially pride. My findings definitely pointed our nation in a clear direction, which was something I was honored to do.

There were also the memories attached to that document. I'd experience unique emotions during my first few days in Cyrodiil I wondered if I'd ever feel again. I was trying to reacquire wisps of them by rereading this piece of parchment. I had always been amazed at the technological marvels of our headquarters, given that I had only the tribal territories as a basis for comparison, but I knew I'd never look at our headquarters the same way again. Cyrodiil was breath-taking.

It seemed Argonia didn't have much to worry about from Lady Leyawiin. I'm sure all of it would be something **Learns-fast** would be happy to hear, and that always made our time together more comfortable.

Even so, some tension was starting to well up inside me at the thought of **Goes-in-heavy**. What would I hear happened to him?

I took my eyes off the paper and put them back on the path. Our headquarters (the headquarters of the Cyrodiillic Transfer Branch, that is), which lied about two miles from the city of Gideon, well hidden behind trees and shrubbery, was right behind the bushes I was now face to face with.

Making my way around the bushes, as I expected, revealed the sanctuary entrance. Its walls were embraced by vines, and its sides guarded by trees with two torches burning a chemical used to keep the bugs away.

It was hard to get an idea of how big the building was from any one angle of view, because, like nearly everything in Black Marsh, it was shrouded in leaves of bushes and trunks of trees. It made free-roaming considerably more difficult than in Cyrodiil, but hiding our headquarters significantly easier.

I opened the front door, causing a refreshing blast of cool air to grace my skin. I removed the shoes from my feet before doing anything else. After a week in Cyrodiil, it was like coming home to a totally new sanctuary. Its like as if everything in the sanctuary had become every-so-slightly different in some way, changing its aura completely.

The headquarters was built around a very long, straight hallway, with several doors on each side. Rooms with similar functions usually branched off opposite to each other. Though **Learns-fast**'s office wasn't the first door accessible upon entry (that was the healer's area), it was relatively close to the front door. The second door on the right, in fact.

I always loved the feeling our headquarters brought in me. A feeling of safety, trust, comradery formed in the most beautiful way possible, and reassurance that there were those with a pure pursuit of justice in their souls. A faith in all those concepts was encouraging with **Goes-in-heavy's** disappearance, because I knew we'd do the utmost to find him.

The door to** Learns-fast**'s office was closed, but I could hear noise in there vaguely resembling speech. The closed door muffled and fuzzed the words. I could make an educated guess the other voice was Mr. Lachance, but I wasn't positive.

I knocked on the door. Then I heard what I could distinctly interpret as a pair of feet walking towards the door. It was Mr. Lachance who opened it, the Black Hand over-seer for our particular group of Shadowscales whose face always seemed to be decorated with a calming, content smile, but never breaking the threshold to a grin.

"We have been waiting for you," he said, holding the door opened for me "Come in. We have important matters to discuss." I could guess he was referring to the plan for my transfer in the next few days to work for **"our friends across the borders" **(as **Learns-fast** liked to call them). I always felt calm, opened, and comfortable in their presence, and was interested to learn more about the Dark Brotherhood, but I felt every fiber of my body tighten as I entered the office, wondering what I'd hear about **Goes-in-heavy's** disappearance.

The office consisted of nothing more than a desk, two chairs, and some racks on the wall. Not extravagant, but effective. I took a seat and placed the scroll on the desk, along with the document I recovered from the Countess's room.

"**This is the intelligence I gathered, its mostly good news." **I said, then encountered an unexpected silence, and decided to continue "**I...never found Goes-in-heavy. He wasn't at the Lodge. Do you know what happened to him?" **I had to push out the words, as speaking them felt like truly acknowledging the predicament.

"**No." Learns-fast** said, no sugar-coating as usual "**He was supposed to come back here three days ago. Just yesterday we began an investigation."**

"**Oh..." **I replied, my heart sinking. I hoped something would distract from the uncomfortable issue that had been spawned into the room. My hopes were answered, somewhat, as **Learns-fast** began skimming the scrolls I'd written. It made the silence not-so awkward. This was the first time I'd spent a full week on a single assignment, so wondering how well I did was a very suspenseful moment.

I was neither disappointed nor ecstatic with his reaction. His facial expression remained the same as it was when he started reading the scroll, and he put it in his desk respectfully enough. Then he spoke again, shifting the conversation into Cyrodillic. The week of native practice had done wonders for my understanding of spoken Cyrodillic.

"Okay, Mr. Lachance, it seems she's as ready for transfer as she can be. The day after tomorrow, I'll let you take her to Cyrodiil." He said. I wasn't sure how I should take that comment. Mr. Lachance didn't reply, seemingly understanding **Learns-fast's** intention to speak to me again.

"**Well, Fights-up-close, meet me in this office the day after your birthday. **Mr. Lachance **will make sure you find your way to Dark Brotherhood's headquarters in **Cyrodiil**. For now I will report your findings. Thanks for all your help."**

"**So is that it?"** I asked, just to be sure. There was no visible cue that our meeting was over.

"**Yes, that's all." **He said. That was a much better cue for me to leave. Despite being physically exhausted, hunger and worry about **Goes-in-heavy** were keeping my mind sharp and fast. Images from the past week rushed through my head.

As I walked to the dining area, I felt burdened to think for some way I could assist with the search. It seemed I had to remind myself repeatedly **Learns-fast** would have told me if they could use my help, because this idea never really seemed to sink in. "Scar-tail" was apparently in Leyawiin before I arrived, so I couldn't imagine what happened. Would I be woken up tonight and told he was found dead? Would I hear him burst through the sanctuary doors an hour before dinner to find out he'd gotten horribly lost on his way back? Would I wake up and find this was all a dream in the next few seconds? I hoped I could celebrate tomorrow without worry or mourning tainting that experience.


	4. Necessary preparations

A/N: Note this chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Second seed 28, 4E1

I wanted to get to sleep, not because I was tired, but because I didn't want to face remainder of the night as boredom, and then have the rest of my day sulleyed by exhaustion, especially given that I needed to get up early to begin my journey to Cheydinhal. Still, my thoughts were racing, and my eyes felt like they were spring-loaded. I could feel the wonder inside me both about "Scar-tail's" status and beginning my career in the Dark Brotherhood, I wonder so deep it seemed to have become not only mental, but physical as well. I tried to close my eyes again, hoping for what had to be at least the 20th time I'd open them to day light.

This time, however, my wish was granted. I didn't realize it immediately, however, as reality was still distorted from a dream (something to do with a ship), but it quickly seeped out of my memory.

As my eyes came into focus noticed someone was standing over me. I closed my eyes again, getting reoriented with reality, then opening them once more. The black blur became Lucien Lachance as I blinked a few more times.

"Greetings, **Fights-up-close**. I'm sorry to give you such an untimely awakening, but you know a day like this carries many exceptions. It is today you meet your new family." My eyes, which had previously been so stubborn to close, now seemed to be just the opposite. I felt at peace in the darkness and under the covers, and didn't at all feel ready to wake up. I had no idea how much sleep I'd gotten, but it was certainly less than I should have. "Make haste with all your necessary preparations. Do this, and find me at the entrance."

As I lifted myself from my bed, I noticed I had a headache, and the exhaustion from the poor sleep I'd gotten was weighing on my mind. I envied the others, who were still in the embrace of darkness, as inelegant as they looked.

I knew why I had to get up early; My journey to Cheydinhal would take at least two days, one of which what just be spent travelling the winding path to Stormhold, which took about twelve hours on a good horse. It wasn't smart to travel deep into the roads during the night time in Argonia, so I had to get an early start.

Getting up this early after having such a crummy job sleeping was bad enough, but for a Shadowscale, whose shining moment was the night, being up this early was outright painful.

But there was something worse that had slipped my memory. I could feel its essence, but it took me a few seconds to recall exactly what it was when my mind was producing so little thought.

Then I remembered: it was **Goes-in-heavy**. Mr. Lachance had given me no update on his whereabouts, meaning there most likely was none. It seemed so unlikely we'd ever have an operative MIA, let alone that the mystery of where he was would be unsolved for so many days. It was frustrating. None the less, I had to go on.

I picked out clothing similar to that which I'd worn on my journey to Cyrodiil. In my tired state, though, it didn't even feel like I was looking at what was infront of me, it felt like I was staring right through it. How much sleep had I missed? At least three hours had been shaven off from my normal time, I'd guessed. _At least_.

I went to a place of privacy and changed my clothing.

I knew there were probably quite a few more steps in preparation for such a significant trip. Despite my sleepy state I did realize I would need to pack extra carefully, given that I might never come back here. Everything I had here seemed to take on a new significance when I realized I didn't know how long it be would until I could see it again. This made deciding what to pack significantly harder, as some of the less practical items might have sentimental value I'd not yet realized. It was hard to imagine giving up the custom-made Shadowscale uniform I had for six years with only a few minutes to consider the sentimental implications that might carry. I decided to pack it even though the chances of ever using it again were so slim. I packed additional clothing, and, unlike last time, I reminded myself to pack two canteens and additional food, having learned from experience.

I paused briefly before the next step, having lost memory of exactly what it was. I blankly stared at the back-pack for a few seconds as my jaw slowly fell and my mind lost focus once again. _I can only hope I'll have an opportunity to nap today_. Really the only thing I was looking forward to was going back to sleep.

Then I remembered; _I'm suppose to go to the dining room, get some breakfast, and pick up an extra canteen to fill._

As I headed to the dining area, which was right across the hall, I realized I wasn't very hungry. Instead, it seemed it might be a good idea to take something with me on the journey I could eat a bit at a time.

The dining area was both the primary source of sit-down and on-the-go meals. Both bags for food and canteens for water were left on a table near the barrels of fruits and vegetables.

I took an extra canteen and food bag, then went to the barrels to grab some berries.

I took several hand-fulls of black berries and poured them into the bag. Simply looking at them had made me slightly hungry, so I decided to pop a few in my mouth before I continued to the entrance, providing a pleasing burst sweetness. I'd already said goodbye to everyone last night, and didn't want to wake anyone up to do it again, so I simply went straight down the hall.

The morning air was filled with the chirping of bugs and humidity, just like yesterday and the day before. The sensation of sun on my skin did feel odd when I was still so groggy. Mr. Lachance was staring into the thick forest and holding a scroll as I exited the headquarters, officially beginning my journey. His black robes were an odd sight in the bright daylight. He turned to me as I stepped closer.

"Come with me, child of Sithis." He said, beckoning me, already prepared to start. I wasn't sure exactly what the plan was to get to the Dark Brotherhood's sanctuary in Cyrodiil, but obviously Mr. Lachance knew and I would find a peaceful walk more pleasing than most things I'd likely do in a day; _I'll welcome anything which won't put a strain on my brain._

As I walked, I kept pouring over bits of conversation I'd heard about **Goes-in-heavy** over the last couple of days and deciding how I felt about them, trying to find a plausible explaination of why he'd gone missing. Of course, it was a place-holder until I found out the truth, but a place-holder I felt insecure without.

_You already know he's not in a Leyawiin prison, you checked there. That means where ever he's gone he can eventually make his way back._

_For all I know, he could be dead._

_He must be alive. We've both lived through six years of tasks most people wouldn't dare touch. What could possibly kill him on an assignment to spy the Countess of Leyawiin?_

_If he's gone this long, there's no way he's still alive._

_What if he got lost in the swamps?_

_Lost with a compass in hand? C'mon._

_Maybe he lost that._

_Still, wandering around in the Marsh for all these days? You can only get so lost in_

"I must stop here." Mr. Lachance said, cutting off my thoughts. We had stopped at a very clear and straight path, "I have provided you with a horse which you will ride North, to Cheydinhal, and no further. You will need this..." he said, handing me a scroll he was holding "...to guide you there. A map of Cyrodiil. Look for a steed, black as my robes; this is the horse you shall be using." I stared down at the scroll briefly, but in my tired state I still couldn't feel the significance of this I knew I should have.

Whatever was the case, I hoped today wouldn't require much of me. The simple concepts involved in getting ready for my journey to Cheydinhal were doable because they were mostly hard-coded into my mind, but I didn't feel prepared to figure anything out today. What little of my mind was functioning was having trouble taking its focus off **Goes-in-heavy** and my headache.

"Now heed my words, for I will not repeat them." Lachance said, causing me to snap to attention. His face had taken an unusually concerned expression; I couldn't help but panic a bit at his seriousness "As a Speaker for the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. Once you are in the city of Cheydinhal, you must go to the abandoned house near the Eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my brother'. You will gain entrance to the sanctuary."

I tried to run the words he spoke through my head once again. _Go to Cheydinhal, to the Eastern wall, and look for an abandon house. Enter its basement and attempt to open a black door. I will then be asked a question, and answer "Sanguine, my brother."_ I didn't entirely know what to make of the instructions, as they sounded very odd, but none the less, I was sure that is what he said.

"Got it." I replied, though sounded a bit half-hearted. Mr. Lachance immediately began walking back the way we came, regardless. I knew his reasons for not coming all the way to the city with me: two Imperial Legion sentries were stationed at the city entrance and, knowing the Dark Brotherhood was illegal throughout the Empire, those were the people Mr. Lachance probably wanted to avoid. Most of the Empire didn't even believe Shadowscales existed, on the other hand, so I was safe.

I continued down the path. Gideon was about a fourty-five minute walk from our sanctuary to make sure no city-dwellers would come upon it. I still had quite a bit more walking to do.


	5. Change in employers

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Second Seed 30, 4E1

With my stomach full, and my throat no longer sore with thirst, I got up from the stool.

I exited the Inn, and was greeted by the fiery colored sky and cool air. My arrival in Cheydinhal had been timely; I knew from my studies of Cyrodiil that goblins tended to hunt on the roads after sun-down.

The city was just as amazing as Leyawiin if not more so, with each house filled with intricately woven stone, metal, and glass for nothing more than decorative elements.

I looked down at my compass. At the moment, I was facing North, and I was at the West side of the city. I had not forgotten the sanctuary was by the Eastern town wall. As I walked in that direction, I closely surveyed my surroundings.

The design of the city itself was interesting, as it all seemed to be built with artistic elements in mind. Even the county-owned property, like the bridges, had their supports constructed in fancy patterns and painted in elaborate colors. Similarly, the castle was majestically seated on a hill, making use of Cyrodiil's warped terrian to capture the symbolism of power perfectly.

This city would probably become what Gideon was back in Argonia to me, so I was careful to observe the location of nearby shops. Like most stores in Cyrodiil, they had some seemingly random names which weren't very helpful, like "The March Rider".

As I had now seen a significant part of the city, I noticed it seemed all the houses here were large. There didn't seem to be any class divide between the various parts of town. Cyrodiil sure was rich in wonder: Leyawiin, Bravil, Cheydinhal, they all could have been from completely different provinces.

Yet as I continued to walk, I noticed that even though the town seemed rather wealthy, it seemed to posses plenty of beggars; more so than Bravil, in fact. They were the only people on the streets at the hour, in fact, making the town seem slightly eerie.

I'd given my stiff legs the kind of work they'd gone twelve hours without. Now I could see the Eastern wall, and distinguishing the abandoned house was far easier than expected. Pieces of the stone wall around it were missing, and one of the windows was broken and borded up, causing the house to look particularly unwelcoming. This was no doubt the house Mr. Lachance was referring to, but I felt slightly apprehensive to enter. The thought of some sort of trap briefly crossed my mind. But why? Obviously they'd never harm me intentionally. I still couldn't see why, of all places, this would be the location of a sanctuary, though.

I looked over my shoulder as I approached the house. No one was watching, but I still dearly wanted eyes in the back of my head. Everywhere I turned, my mind started conjuring up images of someone watching me from whatever area I wasn't facing.

Though it took some courage to do so, I opened the door and entered, shedding some light on the interior of the house. It was full of cob-webs, with pottery and tables tipped onto the floor, like a fight had gone on.

I stepped in, but I was uneasy about closing the door. I'd plunge myself into the unknown at that point, and I couldn't help but fill my head with ideas of dangers that had even the remotest chance of lying inside the house.

I closed the door and ran through all mental steps necessary for transforming my vision into "night-eye" mode, cutting through the task of imagining several different abstract concepts like a hot knife through butter due to my keen, fear-born concentration.

I knew where the door to the basement was, but I still felt spooked by the surroundings. I listened with excruciating concentration for any suspicious noises, almost daring someone, or something to jump out at me unexplainably.

I opened the door to the basement and felt myself go numb for a second, wondering what lay on the other side.

Again, however, it was nothing threatening. Just more darkness, wreckage, and cob-webs. Even so, I couldn't shake the bad feeling I was getting. An abandon, half-destroyed house in the middle of town? Being asked an unknown question and answering "Sanguine, my brother,"? Even with the night-eye effect present, I still felt like I was wondering in the dark in a deeper sense. It felt like forces beyond comprehension were toying with me.

Across from the stairs, there was a large hole in the wall of the basement, which seemed to lead to a cave, but it looked like the hole had been forged with brute force. I was tempted to reach for my dagger, just to feel safer, but there was an emotional pull not to break the silence or acknowledge my fear, almost as if whatever evil was present would feed on it.

I had only gotten a few steps into the cave before I came around a bend and saw a light. It stung my eyes in their "night-eye" state. I quickly released the magicka from my eyes to restore my vision to normal.

I blinked a few times as my view was now smothered in odd colors.

Then I looked at the area the glow had emanated from once again. It appeared to be a door with a picture drawn in glowing red lines. An odd picture, which was, as best I could tell, a giant woman holding a dagger above some crudely drawn people. The door seemed promising. _Now to carry out Mr. Lachance's odd instructions._ It was the fact that my superiours wanted me here that helped cut through the fear.

I approached the door and rattled the handle, breaking the sacred silence.

If this torture of uncertainty would end, it would be soon. I could feel a prickling sensation as I waited, filled with suspense.

"What is the color of night?" An Argonian sounding female voice asked from the other side of the door, at last adding the feeling of human company I so desired in the wrecked, dusty house. Her voice wasn't crystal clear through the stone, of course, but clear enough so I could understand her.

I knew what Lachance had told me to do next, but it still felt completely wrong rolling off my tongue "Sanguine, my...brother."

The door opened, revealing a smiling, spiked face in tight black armor. I felt a momentary bliss as I realized everything had turned out fine after all, and felt like I could laugh at my previous feelings.

"**Greetings, greetings, its me, Stabber, mistress of this sanctuary." **She said. Yes, she left Gideon four years ago. "Lucien** has told me all about your arrival!"** It seemed almost...crude to refer to our overseer by his first name, but her bubbily manner made it clear that wasn't her intention.** "It is always a pleasure to welcome another Shadowscale into our ranks! Truly, your skills will be valued and appreciated by Sithis here as they were by our nation! You stand now in our **Cyrodiil** sanctuary. May it serve as a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises." **She said, then turned to her right and stretched out her arm, gracefully gesturing me to come in. I stepped in, briefly surveying the dimly lit brick room ahead. "**When you're ready for work, go and speak with** Vicente Valtieri**. He handles all assignments for new family members. He will have for you a contract and a uniform****. But I've kept you long enough,** Vincente Valtieri** is waiting. Go now, dear child, and may Sithis go with you.**"

"**Thanks,"** I said, beginning my life in the sanctuary on a good note. The feeling of comradery and unification through cause I had experienced back in Argonia was still present here. Conversing with **Stabber **felt a bit more forced and dry than it would have four years ago in Gideon, but I supposed it stood to reason after years apart. Soon enough things would be back to normal, and our experiences and feelings would blend together through conversation just fine.

I stepped deeper into the sanctuary. It had a low ceiling, which made sense given it was under a city. _Under a city_. It was a fascinating idea, something one would never hear about in a swamp like Argonia.

It was made completely of stone. A few torches hung on the wall, though the area still had more than a few shadows. Nothing an assassin was uncomfortable with, of course. The room branched out in a total of four directions, including the direction I just came from.

I reflected on her words; "**When you're ready for work...**" I wasn't sure what constituted "**ready**" here, but I got the impression from all I'd heard about these transfers that the Brotherhood could afford to be a bit more liberal about the whos, hows, and whens of the tasks it handed its members.

Eager to take the weight off my shoulders, I dropped my back-pack by one of the stone pillars. I glanced around the sanctuary for any other members. In one of the corners of the room, which had been made into a small reading area, there was another Argonian, though most of his face was shrouded due to his hood and my angle of view. His mind was immersed in whatever he was reading, I could tell, but I decided to approach him anyway, if only to ask about Vincenti. He seemed to hear me approaching, and initiated the conversation.

"You are Argonian, yes? The newest Shadowscale, then." I nodded, and he shifted the language of the conversation "**I wish to welcome you to our family, and to this sanctuary. May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our lady, the Night Mother.**"

"**Thanks. I went through a heck of a lot to get here, Cleaver." **I replied, remembering who he was as soon as I noticed the similarities in his face with that of Ocheeva's.

"**Ah, you remember me, then."** He said, half jokingly, laughter in his voice. Of course I'd never forget their names or behaviour in Gideon, but four years completely apart did set up a sense of divide would require my mind to slightly recalibrate to their voices and appearance.** "It's been four years, right?" **

"**Probably," **I replied, then remembered something else which had been in my thoughts. There was a lot going through my mind after today's events "**It must be awfully hard to keep this sanctuary secret. Doesn't a house like this draw a lot of attention?"**

"**Actually," **he began **"I've heard the Count of **Cheydinhal** _knows_ about this sanctuary. But he is offered much gold as well as other...incentives to keep his mouth shut." **Then seemed to reflect briefly on this before adding** "In fact, it was Stabber's assignment to kill **Llathasa** once word to started to leak out that made her mistress of this sanctuary."**

Must have been awkward for him to see his twin sister advance so much beyond him. I was going to ask who Llathasa was when I realized how side-tracked I'd gotten.

"**Listen, do you know where to find **Vincenti Valtieri**? Is he expecting me?" **I asked.

"**Ah, eager to get to work, are you?" **He asked.

"**Not really." **I responded. I was ready to take it easy after the long ride.

"**I'm sure any contract he has can wait. I know what a long trip you had to take." **He responded. Those words were so liberating I couldn't help but smile.

"**Thanks," **I responded "**I guess I'll go meet the others."**

The good feeling and friendly words of the conversation continued to ring in my head. Talking to the Shadowscale still felt a bit like talking to a stranger, but soon things would be back to the way they were in Gideon. _Now to meet my new friends._

I opened the first set of doors I came across, then down the stairs, around the corner, and through the hallway it led to until I came to what appeared to be the sleeping area, dining area, and kitchen all nicely enough organized into one room. There were probably about twelve beds, though I knew that number would be greater than the amount of occupants.

As I observed the room, a Khajiit in green and brown robes walked from behind a pillar, hauling a large bag, which made a low pitched jingle when he walked. Whatever he was doing, he didn't look happy about it, and seeing me didn't change that.

"Well, if it isn't the newest member of the family." He said, and I could instantly tell from his facial expression the conversation wouldn't be fun. "Let's get one thing straight; the Tenets prevent me from killing you, true, but I don't have to like you. I'll sell you equipment, but only because Ocheeva is making me! The Brotherhood doesn't need anymore...outsiders." I knew he wasn't happy, but the hostility of his reaction had been so unexpected it threw off my mind. As violated as I felt, no decent response came to me, just a question.

"Outsiders?"

"Shadowscales," he scoffed, half to himself "You're no children of Sithis, just crafted by twenty years of training. I don't care if Ocheeva wants to hear that! Now if you're here to buy or sell something, get on with it already!"

"Like I'd buy anything from you..." I responded, the best comeback I could think of at the moment, unfortunately.

As he walked away, better comebacks started rushing through my head. While I was in my own little world, someone else came into the room. Human, her words startled me before I turned to face her.

"Welcome, sister. So good to finally meet you." She said, leaning in to shake my hand heartily with both of hers, though my hand was limp in my distracted state. My mind was still trapped in the previous conversation "I hope you're getting along alright." I wondered if that was a reference to the Khajiit I'd just met. Either way, it wasn't an issue I felt like bringing up at the moment, not wanting to confess anyone could successfully get under my scales.

"Hi," I said simply, not feeling comfortable with a lie or a truth.

"Well," she said "I'm Antoinette Marie. I'm sure you'll like the others."

"**Fights-up-close**." I responded. There was a brief silence between us before she spoke again.

"I'll be seeing you then." She said, walking towards the kitchen area to browse the cabinets.

I decided to continue touring, though I kept playing the Khajiit's words in my head. I wondered where he was at the moment, and what his words would be if he saw me again. "Outsiders" was the part that troubled me the most; though I couldn't bring myself to feel he actually believed those words, I hoped he couldn't convince others of such a thing. Unfortunately, I was starting to feel more like I was working out a battle plan than taking a tour.

Returning to the first room in the sanctuary, I walked across to the other door.

Opening it revealed a training room. Not quite as intricate as the one I had back home, unfortunately. It contained only crude and generic dummies and archery targets from what I could see; nothing like the props the Shadowscales used, which were both more realistic, and built for more specific skills. Like the other rooms in this sanctuary, it was square, but with its corners smoothed off and two thick pillars which blocked my view of the majority of the room upon entry. To my left, I could hear the sound of some kind of projectile colliding with a loose surface. On my right, I could hear a noise I couldn't quite associate with anything I yet knew of, and an odd light pulse on that side of the wall in synchrony with the sound: magic of some sort was my best guess, though nothing like the kind I'd ever seen a Shadowscale use.

I began to walk around the perimeter of the room, starting towards the right.

I noticed one of the occupants was an archer. She turned around as I approached, immediately ceasing her practice and politely making time to talk to me.

"Warmest welcomes to you. I am Telandril, Wood Elf, and loyal daughter of Sithis. I hope you find this sanctuary to your liking." She said. _'Wood elf'_, I'd have to remember that. I'd been having trouble keeping all those terms straight. Her voice sounded slightly accented, and I wondered if she wasn't native to Cyrodiil.

"**Fights-up-close**," I responded "Thanks. I'm really looking forward to working here. Cyrodiil's going to take a bit of work getting used to, though. Did you grow up here?"

"No, and, in truth, I miss the towering elms of my native Valenwood, but I was banished from there long ago for deeds I do not care to discuss. This is my home now."

I thought briefly about the Gideon headquarters and did feel a slight nostalgia. I had to wonder if that was just the power of suggestion, though. Either way, it might be nice to have someone I could sort of relate to, and the diversity of this province certainly made it interesting. Learning about the Cyrodiillic language and culture before coming here fascinated me. I was sure the same could apply to the other provinces of the Empire, which I knew nothing about.

The door behind me opened and who ever came in caught Telandril's attention, whose smile extended. I turned to see who it was. He was an Orc, very tall, with his head almost scrapping the top of the doorway as he walked on, clad in shining armor with a smile just as bright.

"Welcome! Welcome, my newest sister!" He said as he saw me "I'd give you a hug, but Ocheeva told me not to!" I could hear a small chuckle coming from Telandril's direction. He was certainly an odd sight in full metal armor with what appeared to be an axe strapped to his back. As far as stealth went, both items couldn't have been worse choices.

"I know what you're thinking," He said, grinning "That's Gogron! He's too big to be sneaky. Well, you're right! I like to just go in and hack my targets to pieces! Hah!" seeming somewhat amused by his own attitude, as was I.

"**Fights-up-close,"** I introduced myself, starting to get used to the odd sensation of my own name rolling off my tongue. Feeling comfortable enough in their presence, I felt like continuing the conversation for its own sake "I had to come all the way from Argonia to get here. Its going to be odd to call Cyrodiil home from now on."

"Well, you know what they say..." Gogron commented with boyish eagerness "home is where you hang your enemy's head!" Simply talking to them had helped to nullify the feelings the Khajiit had caused me. An enthusiastic mood for our organization and its job made me feel better to be here. Surprisingly, I actually felt more connected in their company than I did in Ocheeva's or Tienaava's today.

"That's a nice way to think of it." I said half jokingly before the doors to the main room opened once again.

The person who entered was a new and surprising sight. His face was pale and gaunt as a skeleton, and his irises pink, yet he walked with the confidence and energy of anyone else, perhaps more so. For a second, he seemed like a very morbid sight, but that sensation faded almost instantly. His state did not seem to phase Gogron either, who now turned to face the odd man.

"Gogron, if I may have a word with you?" he said. I was entranced with fascination.

"Of course, but are you sure you don't want to meet our newest family member first?" He asked, then gestured towards me. I could tell the man hadn't previously taken notice of me.

"Ah, my apologies. Your name is...?" He asked me.

"**Fights-up-close," **I replied "Glad to meet you."

"Warmest greetings to you." He responded, and I felt happy in the midst of such friendliness "I trust you've already spoken with Ocheeva? I am Vicente Valtieri. I provide assignments for all new family members." I noticed something when he spoke. Something about his teeth seemed off, though I couldn't decide exactly what it was about them "Please, do not let my appearance…unnerve you. The needs and tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire."

Vampire...I had heard about the disease a few times, but never actually seen someone who'd been inflicted. This seemed like an appropriate line of work for someone like that, I supposed. One didn't need to worry about the daylight or finding blood to drink when one was about to spill some to begin with. It was nice to know he worked out a life that meshed so well with his infection.

"I'm guessing your not...contagious?" I asked. Though the word was fine in a technical sense, it seemed funny when referring to something like vampirism.

He laughed a bit, "Well, I'm sure you won't become this way if we share a mug. I know. I was stricken with vampirism three-hundred years ago on an expedition deep into the ashlands of Vvardenfell."

I'd heard vampires could live a long time. If he had been living for over one-hundred years, he would certainly be fascinating to talk to, but three-hundred years...that opened up a whole plethora of questions; how did life feel after witnessing three-hundred years of change? I listened with a thirst for knowledge about his life.

"For one-hundred years I hunted in secret," he continued "until the Dark Brotherhood found me. Now I have a family that accepts and even values my unique gifts." I was slightly worried that I had offended by asking him if it was contagious, like it was a sickness. His view on vampirism was certainly interesting. Everyone seemed to think outside the box a bit more here. "Perhaps, in the future, when I feel you have earned the right, I will allow you the chance to become a hunter of the night."

I briefly thought about what a painfully tough decision that would be when the time came. The decision to make an irreversible change in my body that could have three-hundred years worth of effect wasn't something I could take lightly. Would I take the offer when the opportunity came up?

But even three-hundred years of acquiring wisdom didn't allow him to read my mind the way Gogron had, as he changed the subject rather quickly, before I could further inquire about his life as a vampire.

"Now, if you're ready to get to work I have a contract ready for you. You and Gogron may both come to my office." He stated.

"I've had a _really_ long day," I replied "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to wait until tomorrow."

"Pity." He said, briefly shifting his eyes towards the ground "I am eager to see how you fare on your first assignment." Then shifted to a more optimistic tone "The contract will be waiting when you're ready." He turned back to Gogron "Now, Gogron, if you don't mind..." gesturing the Orc to follow him.

Being offered my first contract and meeting my first vampire all in the same minute certainly was exciting. It was all so much to take in it made me forget my previous priorities. The idea of this new life seemed more intriguing than ever.

But I was reminded of "Scar-tail's**"** disappearance. The distress his unexpected absence had caused me prevented me from loving this new life to my full potential, as much as it crushed me to realize so.

I did my best to push these thoughts aside, as I knew I had good reason to; there was still hope to one day see him arrive in the sanctuary. For now, I'd just need to hammer that notion into my mind.


	6. First capital, first contract

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since I released the final chapter of this story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with earlier reviews and author's notes (A/N) of unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 1, 4E1

The great thing about Cyrodiil, at least in terms of day-time travel, was how clear and unobstructed everything was. Even with the massive distance between me and the island the city lied on, I could still get a great view of some of Cyrodiil's most legendary constructions as our boat gently glided across the water. I was truly in awe. Riding across such pure, clean, reflective water and eyeing the magnificent white-gold towers made me wonder if I would wake up to find myself in a bed in Argonia. The imaginations and ingenuity of their constructors seemed to be beyond compare. Trying to intuitively compare their size to anything I'd seen before was impossible.

I knew those circular city walls incased some other famous buildings as well, including the Temple of the One, the location of the battle that finally stopped Dagon's invasion, after which the locals built a statue of one of their "Gods" at the site in honor of the victory or something like that: **Learns-fast** never really told me the whole story, so obviously the details were unimportant.

As I stared at the city walls, I realized I'd never viewed something at such a great distance before, except the endless expanses of the Southern oceans. The patterns made visible by looking at the city from such a distance were truly fascinating as well.

It was starting to dawn on me what had always held back the kingdom of Argonia from becoming something as expansive and powerful as Cyrodiil. The constant organic obstructions in our country inhibited anything we did from growing to its true potential. _Maybe this has been Cyrodiil's secret to success. Room to expand? Lack of competition with other life forms for every inch of land?_

The rhythmic rowing, the consistent and gentle lapping of water against its side, and the warmth cast by the evening sun all seemed to blend together very placidly. The city itself was walled, like Leyawiin, but the walls were taller and curved. Again, what they'd accomplished with stone was truly mind-boggling. It was hard to imagine even digging that much rock out of the earth, let alone constructing it into a curved and "one-piece" wall.

I shifted my focus to the other buildings outside the central area of the city. I was now looking at the Arcane University, the most prestigious Mages Guild facility in all of Tamriel. I had pictured it to be bigger, though I couldn't quite wrap my mind around the distance I was viewing it from, so perhaps it was bigger than it seemed from my current location.

But, as we rowed a bit further, I noticed something encroaching on the peaceful blend of sight and sound. A subtle stink. I looked towards the front of the boat, passed the rower, and noticed how close we were to the crescent shaped island the waterfront slums lied on. As we got closer, I could tell that was where the smell was coming from.

The front of the boat glided on the sandy shores briefly before the friction slowed it to a halt.

I'd already paid the boat rower ten septims, and knew this is where I was to get off. I stood up, startling myself briefly as the boat shifted under my weight. Then, recovering my balance, I picked up the cargo I had taken with me. I stretched my right leg to the shore, careful not to get my shoes wet.

The boat driver dug the paddles deep into the sand before forcefully pushing the boat back into the lake water, returning it to its intended, more comfortable environment. He had told me I was on my own finding a way back across the lake, but I knew a place like this probably had another boat-rower for hire.

The capital of Cyrodiil, the capital of the Empire, the center of arcane knowledge, and yet home to the poorest slums in the whole province. The Imperial City was quite a place to carry out my first contract.

The district was exposed to the evening sun, coating the pavement in golden light and warmth as I walked.

What parts of this area were crafted by nature were beautiful; a mix of white sands, rolling green hills, and shining water were all visible from where I stood. Yet what was crafted by humans was not so pleasing to the senses. The waterfront district smelled bad, and anywhere you looked you could see at least one piece of litter.

Beggars were abundant, their clothing as dirty and rugged as everything else in the district. Some seemed to be following other pedestrians, continuously trying to change their minds about lending them coins. Others were simply sitting on the pavement.

I passed by one as I walked, making an effort to keep my eyes straight forward as if he didn't have my attention yet, though he was on my mind as I walked. I didn't want to give the idea I was eager to hand out coins. My mind went into a state of concentration, analyzing the distance between us and how that played into his likelyhood of pestering me while I passed him.

"Just one coin." the beggar pleaded feebly as I got close. Now that he asked, I realized I had a decision to make unlike any I had made before: in Argonia, the royalty managed any aid we would give to the worthy tribals and my job was only to snuff out the corrupt and dangerous ones. Here, I suddenly realized, I'd need to rethink a lot of my old habits.

Though my instinct to keep walking held precedence, I noticed I had caught myself in an untimely moral predicament. I tried to juxtapose the logic behind donating and not donating, but it was difficult to think about something when my emotions kept shifting my thoughts elsewhere, knocking down what constructions of logic I could create in my mind. I continued walking, trying to think, but it all felt half-hearted.

Soon I was closer to the ship than I was to the beggar, and knew I shouldn't turn back. Somehow I felt glad it was too late to change my mind. Was this how independence felt? Though I knew I should stop thinking about it, the beggar-decision seemed mysteriously stuck in my mind. I knew I should just tack the subject into my memory for consideration later, but somehow I couldn't get the idea of shoving those thoughts aside to _feel_ right. It was extremely frustrating, but I had to try. I knew in this new world I was sure to encounter more dilemmas which I hadn't devoted a spec of time to think about in Argonia.

" _The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself onboard in one of the packing crates_." I recalled were Vincenti Valteri's exact words, doing my best to tare myself away from my previous thoughts. I didn't know about smuggling myself on board, but the first part was certainly correct. There were three pirates who were not onboard the ship as far as I could see. Two were men moving one of the crates, both holding opposite sides of it as they walked towards the ship, the one walking backwards taking care to not mis-step as he approached the stairs. The other was a woman, seemingly standing guard. Her eyes were facing front, her face expressionless, her stance straight, and a sword strapped to her waist like all the others.

I started walking in a direction which would give me a better view of the ship. As I walked past the female pirate my mind was in the same state as when I walked past the beggar.

I tried to look casual as I observed the ship and the cargo with quick glances, not daring to check to see if she was watching me. There was still a large amount of cargo they had left to put onboard, but I noticed something more promising at the ship's front; A balcony was extending from a room in the ship's interior. As I glanced at the rocky shore near it, it seemed plausible that, if I chose where to stand carefully, I could jump to the balcony.

This seemed to be more logical than the approach Vincenti had suggested; The balcony extended from a room directly under the ship's steering wheel, so the Captain's cabin would no doubt be nearby. Smuggling myself on board, on the other hand, would likely put me no where near the Captain's room, and require me to remove the contents of one of the crates first, which would no doubt draw attention. Which approach to use seemed clear.

I knew I should wait for nightfall, as, at that time, the Captain would most likely be in his cabin, and I would have the company of the shadows.

Now that I'd used all the time I could to take seemingly casual glances at the ship and its cargo, I turned and began to walk in a different but non-specific direction.

With the pirates none the wiser, I felt immensely satisfied with clarity and fluency with which the logical plan came to me. After all, I wouldn't be trusted with that much freedom of proceedure in Black Marsh.

I gauged a good time to return to the docks would be in about seven hours. In the meantime, I had the whole city to keep me occupied and a lot I should think on.


	7. Executing a plan, and a Captian

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with earlier reviews and the author's notes (A/N) of unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 1, 4E1

As I came around the grassy hill-side, I noticed the waterfront wasn't as well lit as the other parts of the city at night. In fact, if it wasn't for the glint of the moon shining on the surface of the lake water, I might not have been able to see where the land was if it were not for my minor knowledge of the school of Illusion magic.

I had changed into my assassin armor for the assignment, and now I could move with ease and blend with the shadows. Their company made me feel safe, like a protective father, as I prowled towards the slum.

Except for the crickets, the subtle pressing of my feet against the grass, and gentle batting of the water against the shores of the lake, it was quiet in the waterfront now.

As I passed the light house, and got a clear view of the island, I could see everyone was asleep. I was willing to bet that included the Captain. Soon my enemies and new friends alike would see what distinguished a Shadowscale. My years of training and special gift would bring fear to those who gave into the temptation of injustice here, too, starting this night.

Walking across the stone bridge, I couldn't help but smile to myself as I recalled my plan. I couldn't imagine anything going wrong with it. My mind was lucid, my veins filled with adrenaline, and my muscles felt strong enough to brave any challenge, all blending into a wonderful confidence. My enemies, on the other hand, weren't even conscious. That was the best advantage an assassin could ask for. Better yet, I would get paid for this beyond beds and meals.

The thrill grew as I came closer to the ship. I could feel an aura of excitement around the area it was docked. The words of Vincenti rang in my head:

"_I am eager to see how you fare on your first assignment."_

"_Completion of a contract will be compensated in gold, which you may spend in whatever way you like."_

"_As a pirate, Gaston Tussaud has spilled his share of blood. Someone has hired us to enact revenge."_

All these words contributed to the inner charge I could feel.

I approached the area where the crates he suggested I use had been. There were only a few left, most of them had been taken on board the ship. This time, I stepped off the paved, semi-circular path, and onto what little of the shore was eroded into sand. I hoisted myself onto a protruding rock.

Now came a real test. I had been trained to make long jumps for years, but I wasn't positive I could do this on my first try, and hardly wanted to fall into the supposed water that gave off such a foul smell here. Yet I found the petty fears easy to push aside given my enthusiasm. I prepared to close my mouth if I didn't make the jump.

I leaped from the rock, and managed to grab the edge of the balcony with my armored finger-tips. Quickly, with my will cutting through any other considerations like a hot knife through butter, I pulled myself up. Though my face trembled and warmed with additional blood-flow as I lifted the remainder my body, I did so quickly and in a single thrust.

Getting onto the balcony had been as quiet as the lapping of the waves against the shore. Opening the door would be a different story, but I knew I could fall back on the shadow's gift if I made enough noise to wake the Captain.

I gently and carefully wrapped my hand around the handle of the door to open it. I carefully pulled it towards me. The heavy door opened with little noise, though letting in the night air might provide some other stimulus. On its other side was the Captain's dining area, with his room straight ahead. The opened door hadn't woken him up yet,_ good_.

I took my first step in the ships interior. The wooden floor creaked. Such a noise was ear-piercing to a Shadowscale. A man in the bedroom, no doubt the Captain, quickly drew in breath. I knew he had woken up. I could hear his bed shift as I gently drew my dagger. I knew what every noise indicated. I knew when he'd stood up, and activated my special power, commanding every fiber of my body to emanate the magical charge that made me invisible. I channeled extra magnitude to my hands to conceal the dagger I was holding.

The sleepy Captain, struggling to keep his eyes opened, stared right through me, something which was always satisfying. Unknown to him, I was advancing silently, with the care and precision in my moves that was the core of an assassin's skill; I didn't know if he could hear my seemingly disembodied footsteps, but I did this not only to stay silent, but to preserve the magical charge. I knew without any sudden, forceful movements, I could retain my invisibility for almost a minute, even while moving.

The Captain, keeping his eyes glued to the dining area, leaned in an odd way to reach for the sword he kept on a chest to his right. He was afraid: What he deserved to be. I kept my breaths shallow. Though he didn't know it, I was staring straight into his eyes. He was armed now, so I knew I had to make my stab kill.

I quickly thrust my dagger towards his heart, piercing the flesh as the magical charge on my body was thrown off and dissipated within a second. I withdrew the dagger, as he cried out, then closed his eyes and pressed his teeth together as if trying to push the pain out of his body. Noticeably weakening by the second, he fell to his knees, his head hitting the floor with a loud crack. Mission complete. I knew in those last 30 seconds, the world had inched closer to a just state, and would spark a fear which would help to keep that balance.

I decided to begin searching the cabin. His chest seemed to hold the most promise. I crouched down and inserted the metal pick into the key hole, but then I started to hear something from the lower decks. At first it sounded like it could have been any of the miscellaneous creaks a ship like this generated, but it was steady. Someone was walking in the deck below. At this hour, it seemed logical to assume I, or the Captain more directly, had woken them up. I knew it would soon be time to return to the shadows that remained at the sides of the dining area, and removed the pick from the keyhole. Though the sound was muffled through the door, I could now tell there were two others coming towards the Captain's quarters.

I crept back to the dining area, not sure if I was ready to leave the ship, but certainly had the intention to hide. I jerked involuntarily at the violent and abrupt knocking at the door.

"Captain, Captain Tussaud...are you alright sir?" A man spoke, waiting briefly for a response which would never come "We heard a clamor, Captain. We're...we're coming in."

The door was violently thrown open, hitting the wall it resided on with ample force. The two pirates surveyed the area in a state of shock. I was witnessing the justice and fear I lived to ensure.

The human knelt over the Captain to feel for a pulse as his friend held his sword primed to strike for an ambush that would probably never come. Though I was trained for over a decade to survive in hostile territory, I could gauge from experience that there would be a significant risk in taking on two sword-wielding pirates with a dagger.

I crept towards the door, taking each step with care.

"He's dead," the pirate said grimly, acknowledging my accomplishments. A victory in a war which knew no bounds in time or space. A victory that was somewhere between everything and nothing.

When I made it to the balcony, I leaped back to the rock with a grace that surprised even myself, and ran across the edges of the island to the row of hovels near the shores. I had sealed the success of my first contract.


	8. First fufillment

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 2, 4E1

Each step reminded me what a luxury still having Mr. Lachance's horse would have been. Each step took me such a shorter distance, and with it came just a bit more exhaustion. It was one of the better places to walk, the path between Cheydinhal and the Capital, but I didn't appreciate needing four hours of incessant walking, which didn't include the other parts of my journey. My legs were now aching.

I was close to the city of Cheydinhal, but I began thinking about the money I'd be receiving for the contract. The average cost of a horse, from my experiences in Gideon, was about 1000 septims. Though I was never told exactly how much this particular contract payed, I knew the usual contract payed a couple-hundred. I had a disheartening epiphany; I'd probably need at least four more contracts completed to get a horse, but when I factored in covering the costs of the materials, it would likely require more. That meant at least eight more long journeys. And even so, those five contracts would be spent making the future contracts easier, not really spent for my own enjoyment, as I had recklessly assumed they would be.

But as a passed yet another large, moss covered rock that flanked the path, someone caught my attention. A khajiit in leather armor, holding a metal mace which shined in the sunlight, casting its own little sun, with its own rays. His face and method of approach both did not bode well for what our encounter would be like. None the less, I stood my ground, my posture and facial expression unflinching knowing I always had my special gift to fall back, and an ego to maintain.

The scowl did not disappear from his face, he extended his free hand. "Your money, or your life?" He asked in an accented voice, no doubt confident (and wrong) to think he knew my answer. In terms of physique, weaponry, and protective gear, I was severely outmatched, but I still had my unseen advantage. He didn't even take the precaution to get close to me. That would be his last mistake.

I pushed the inner charge onto the surface of my body, channeling it appropriately, making myself as good as gone to him.

His eye's briefly widened in surprise. I took a few steps back to allow him less of an idea of exactly where I was, an important tactic.

"Shadow," he said, almost under his breath. He tried to resolve the fight by swinging blindly in front of himself, but met only with air. None the less, he had no other options, so I couldn't call him foolish. I filled with glee and satisfaction at watching my own trickery succeed. I could have escaped and continued walking, but he'd cross the line, and I needed to compensate to push things back into their rightful places.

"This one knows you are still there, so just...come on out." He said, using the makeshift term of 'come on out' to request I force the charge on my body to dissipate. He constantly waved his head back and forth, his arms primed to swing, his eyes primed to spot, and his mind filtering through everything he saw for a disturbance that could reveal my presence. I could see his panic. Our emotional states would remain opposites until he died.

I had been trained for years in the art of concealment not only within the shrouding of cover and shadows, but within the shrouding of the Shadow's magicka. I slowly and carefully, maintaining the distance between us, tried to circle around him. Once I did that, I could unsheathe my dagger, approach ,and plunge it into the back of his throat.

"Hey!" He cried out, his attention snapping towards my direction. I froze instantly, hoping with every second he'd turn away and discard the idea he was actually staring at me. I began to tense as I waited, feeling my muscles tighten around every inch of the inside of my body. Thankfully, some movement to his left, no doubt caused by wind, caught his attention. The paranoia a Shadowscale could invoke was what we truly loved to flaunt. It was what we did best.

I continued to move , taking every step with care, and imagining how the pressure of my foot impact the ground. I gently reached for my dagger, then began to pull it back. I was no where near where he thought I was. The fine art of deception in action, glorifying me and my employers.

As I got within range, he swung himself around, but it was too late, my dagger was already headed towards his throat. I withdrew it after it had gone as deep as it could, and he made a very unhealthy sounding gurgling noise, helpless even to express his pain, tumbling to the ground. Just another obstacle to overcome in the path I pledged to live my life by, the only one I promised I'd ever know: one of clearly drawn lines, and no arbitrary decisions to declare mercy, everlasting strength above all temptations and emotions, and, ultimately, undieing dedication to justice.

I briefly checked behind more shoulders for any approaching legionaries incase of the small chance I might look like the murder, and saw none. I knelt down beside the body. The fur around his neck was turning red, his eyes caught in an ever-lasting gaze. Strapped to his side was a sack. I took it off of him, and examined it. Its bottom was bumpy, it jingled, and was heavy for its size. No doubt the gold of others who had complied or died was contained within it. I, of course, took the bag with me. Karma had gone full circle, without any anomalies. The crime, the punishment, and the reward for the punisher, and a reward she needed more than anyone who traveled the paths. It was all so comforting. I could feel at peace. Better than that, in fact, it gave me something to smile about.

I decided to pick up his mace as well, guessing I could sell it for a significant amount of gold.

As I continued walking, I looked into the contents of the bag. It was filled with all sorts of objects, but with one prominent consistency. Shiny and sparkling metals and minerals, mostly in the form of septims. No doubt I could sort them out when I got back to the sanctuary.

Each step became slightly more strenuous as I began to climb a familiar hill. I knew I was close to the city walls. As I rose, I could see the turrets of the city wall. I had to wonder what the Imperials feared so much. Tribal invasion? An attack from another nation? None of that would seem to be a threat here. The walls looked sturdier and harder to penetrate than those of Gideon, or Stormhold. They had about half of the threats to protect themselves from, yet their constructions seemed to have twice the effort, if not more.

I approached the entrance, not making eye contact with the guard. I always felt tense when I was near them, and it always made me remember their pompous attitude towards a cause they barely fought for. They claimed to serve in the name of justice, but constantly set up arbitrary borders to their duties, seemingly for their own comfort. Captain Tussuad, for example, would still be alive and enjoying his ill-gotten goods if not for the Dark Brotherhood's superior dedication. Their uniforms seemed like affronts, fooling citizens they were the best justice had to offer.

I entered the city, planning to head to the March Rider to sell the mace I'd picked up. Fortunately for me, that shop was near the entrance to the city, as were the Inns. It occurred to me the cleverness of such a design.

The streets seemed almost deserted again as I walked down them. Only the guards and an occasional horse-drawn carriage seemed to walk the streets, as if the town was under some kind of heavy-duty military occupation.

I climbed the few stairs that separated the shop from the side-walk, and opened the door. I approached the owner.

"The March Rider sells and repairs armor and weapons. Can I help you? I'm Tertia Viducia." She said. I held out the mace before speaking, noticing how heavy it was when I tried to lift it with one arm. Pain started to form, so I held the mace in a casual fashion once again.

"What do you think is a fair price for this?" I said, her eyes shifting down towards the mace I was holding.

"Hmmm..." she said, her eyes remaining in place "Fifty septims?" she said, her tone making it clearly a suggestion "How does that sound?"

For all I knew, one of us was being completely suckered. I had a very basic idea of the price range for these sorts of weapons, but that was it. In Argonia, we were supposed to turn over all equipment to the armory. Her face and voice seemed pure and honest, although you could never truly tell.

"Deal." I said. My mind racing a second later about the transaction. She reached into the bag of coins she kept nearby and sorted out a combination of coins that added up to fifty septims.

She took the mace from my right hand, and I took the five 10-septim coins from hers, satisfied with the transaction. I felt like I'd made a good trade. Even if that was a cheap price to sell the mace for, it was still worth ten good meals, and thinking about it that way made the transaction far more satisfying. I exited the shop, nearly walking into a long-haired, scowling, guard Captain.

"Get out of my way before I have you slapped in irons!" He commanded. I, instinctually, took a step back. He was a bit on the short side, but his audacity more than compensated to make him intimidating. He continued walking, but his words came back to me instantly, accompanied by offense. I watched as he turned the corner. I did my best to drill it into my memory, because I knew now was not the time to consider such things. But the words stuck, as did a picture of the moment.

I walked across the river, but no matter how many times I convinced myself I needed to stop thinking about it, his words came back. _Think about it in the name of justice_. One side of me said, while the other told me _Your superiors know when and how justice needs your abilities, so if you want to help that cause, you should concentrate on talking to them._ Then part of me would search for arguments to back up the first side fruitlessly, which nagged at me as I approached the abandoned house, feeling utterly frustrated both that I couldn't drop the subject, and that it was sullying my normally cheerful situation in the first place, making my previous priorities feel half-hearted.

I looked over my shoulder again as I near the abandon house. As usual, no one was watching me. I strode into the house, this time with confidence, finding it somewhat funny to remember how frightened I'd originally been. The macabre nature of the house no longer symbolized the forces against me, but the forces allied with me, and that made me feel safe, not vulnerable. None the less, to avoid any accidents, I carefully channeled magicka into my eyes, adjusting my vision to the darkness as I walked down the creaky steps, dodging and weaving past cob-webs now and then.

I walked through that mysterious cave, to the glowing door. I still wondered how this whole sanctuary came to be. But it brought on fascination, not fear, because it reinforced the claim that I was on the side of the mighty and powerful.

I rattled the handle, then spoke "It's me, Feekaava-Taakeeus" I could hear footsteps, muffled through the stone. The door opened, and I was greeted by Tienaava, hooded as usual.

"It fills my heart with warmth to see you again, sister!" He said cheerfully, holding the door opened for me. I couldn't contain my smile.

"Hey," I replied simply, feeling oddly guilty that I couldn't match that greeting "Do you know where Vincenti Valteri is?"

"Where is Vincenti, you ask? I last saw him in the dining area." Tienaava replied.

"Thanks," I said, eager to compensate his kindness, and began walking towards that room. At this hour, the sanctuary was full. Everyone was up, but it was a bit too early to start contracts, at least ones within adjacent cities.

I excitedly anticipated Vincenti's reaction to my success. Right now, I was blissful: I was in a place where I could feel safe and proud of who I was, and comfort that there were others like me, both in belief and spirit. A place where I could get rest. I had a material reward awaiting me, as well as the bandit's bag to look into. Still, exactly what he'd think of my performance wasn't clear. I didn't know what the brotherhood looked for. I had succeeded, but I still tensed a bit as I wondered exactly what he would think of my manner of execution.

As I approached the sleeping/dining area, I could hear Vincenti's voice, though he was obviously not talking to me. "I'm just glad you came out of it all unscathed. Not that I doubted your abilities, M'raaj, but you know me, I worry."

I kept my footsteps soft as I entered. Curious enough to not want to end the conversation, but not willing to appear sneaky in front of either of them if I were to get caught.

"Yes, well" the khajiit, who was apparently named M'raaj replied "I'll be sure to check for next time."

Vincenti Valteri seemed to take notice of me, and curiously looked to his right, then signaled I give him a moment. I stopped, waiting.

"Excuse me, brother, I have someone to attend to. " He smiled once more at M'raaj, a sight which made me feel slightly angry, but somewhat helpless in the current situation as memories of the guard outside of the March Rider also came back to me. Looking a bit more serious, he looked at me again, got up from his chair, and beckoned me towards the door.

He closed the door to the sleeping/dining room once we were both in the hallways.

"Its done." I said, before he turned to face me again. He smiled, exposing his fangs, his sort burst of seriousness seemingly over.

"So, the pirate has been eliminated? Excellent. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased." His voice seemed slightly quiet for a normal conversation, but his words were music to my ears. He took out a sack of coins from his pocket, and I grasped it with my free-hand. His review of my performance had been simple, but that was satisfying enough. "Here is the payment for your first contract." There would be a lot to look forward to with so many riches in my hand, but I had an urge to shift the conversation to 'M'raaj'. I had every intention to put myself back in the battlefield, as I was prepared this time.

"M'raaj, the khajiit I mean, does he give you any trouble?" Grasping on an opportunity to talk about him without appearing whiney or feisty Vincenti's expression changed to one of genuine concern.

"M'raaj-Dar? Oh, don't let him get to you. He has a problem with all Shadowscales."

"Really?" I said "Has he given the others, Tienaava and Ocheeva, any trouble?"

Vincenti wasn't really sure whether to speak or laugh first "He wouldn't be selling supplies right now if he hadn't." I felt better not being alone, and hearing why Ocheeva made him sell supplies already felt like a victory.

"Smart move." I said, referring to Ocheeva, enjoying the image of M'raaj...-Dar losing to **Stabber** in a war of pride. However, I then began to wonder how Vincenti Valteri viewed the situation, and felt slightly embarrassed. He seemed nice to M'raaj-Dar, and indifference in a conflict between two friends always angered me. None the less, I found his words comforting, somehow. As I was lost in thought which seemed to be getting nowhere, I noticed I'd been silent for quite some time.

"Sithis be with you, Sister." He said, once again opening the doors to return to his previous conversation. I wondered briefly if M'raaj-Dar might have genuinely thought Shadowscales were "outsiders", not children of Sithis. But it was such a baseless claim, I had to assume there was another motive.

_Shadowscales and frustrating uncertainty,_ it seemed familiar. Then the thought came back to me, hitting me hard. **Goes-in-heavy** was still nowhere to be found. The length of his absence had already pushed beyond the threshold of my beliefs. Every second was another opportunity to get my hopes up, and feel frustrated at the seemingly logic-defying event of his disappearance. Was this some game of Sithis? I would have been grateful with any kind of closure at this point, to have something I could submit to, but there had still been no word as to what happened to him. For me there was just an urge to submit to super-natural forces arrayed against me I knew couldn't truly be at work.

I knew there were other things to be done: For one, count up how much gold I'd found on that highwayman, but my passion was elsewhere. I went back to the main room, finding myself a free chair and table.

I poured the various riches onto the table, briefly worried they might spill off as I seemed to lose control of the flow, and then began counting the value of septims it contained. With each one I counted, I moved it over to the other side of the table.

1...2...3...13...14...15...16...26. But I was distracted, and operating slowly and unsteadily. I was bombarded with other emotional drives that seemed to be undeterred by logic.


	9. Climbing

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revision since the final chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 5, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): The Silver Road

* * *

The changing elevation was the most annoying thing about Cyrodiil. It made distances always seem longer than they looked on the map. That was the main reason I felt so hungry now. I'd under-estimated the time I'd be walking; I expected I'd arrive in Bruma just in time for lunch, but I was at least two hours off with my estimation. 

This was the last place you'd expect to find a finned person like myself; Mountains, cold air, the smell of pine, and far from the Southern coasts.

I continued walking, my legs aching, having to push myself higher into the mountains with every step. Traveling to Bruma was a fascinating adventure, but a very tiresome one, and getting such an awful sleep at the "Roxey Inn" didn't help. It really made me see what a great deal Witsetutsi, Caro lover though she may be, had given me with _her _ten septim room. At least it was Mid Year, so Bruma was comfortably cool. I'd heard it could get painfully cold during the other half of the year.

I reflected on my assignment as I struggled up the hill. It was a very mysterious assignment. For some reason, the killing was supposed to look like an accident, but **Stabber** told me that if I was spotted, I should eliminate the target by any means. I'd lose this "bonus", whatever it was, but the contract would be considered fulfilled. Most of these words still didn't have a firm meaning in my mind. Of course, it must have played into a larger plan, one that was intricate and quite an accomplishment to make, but what kind of plan I couldn't tell. My target was an old man, Baenlin, a "wood elf". That's what Telandril called herself, so I supposed I had somewhat of an idea of what I was looking for; still, despite the miraculous fact that I could identify my soft-skin friends in a crowd, the rest all looked the same to me.

I noticed a destroyed Oblivion gate in the distance to my left. I was naturally interested in inspecting it.

It was rumored you could still find daedric plants, and even daedra themselves, at these sites. Still, it was about half a year ago that Mehrunes Dagon learned a lesson about treading on Sithis' turf, so naturally I doubted both rumors.

I stepped slightly off the path to observe the massive stone spikes. They were coated in a shiny-red mineral, red as blood. Their tips were sharp as daggers. They captured the essence of violence perfectly. But not swift, selective death. Clumsy, indiscriminate destruction.

Thankfully, Argonia had seen very little of the Oblivion Crisis.

I approached the ruins. It was neat to think I was in the presence of something which supposedly came from Oblivion itself. I'd previously only been able to catch glimpses of these things. I touched one of the stone columns. It felt like any other stone on Nirn, but I none the less soaked up the ambience of the ruin, reminding myself what I was touching.

I stepped over some of the stone between the two spikes, inspecting the ground. But as I suspected, there was nothing left in the ruins but the ruins themselves.

I turned and went back to walking the path after that small detour.

I wasn't really sure which was worse, four hours walking through a totally uncivilized section of swamp, or six and a half hours of walking up hills and mountains. If it wasn't for the sense of adventure and stark beauty of climbing my first mountain, I would have easily preferred the former.

Thankfully, the terrain was getting gradually more level. That reduced the stress on my legs.

I could see an odd sight in the distance. There were jagged protrusions on the horizon. They seemed like nothing more than dull colors in pointy formations, which I was unable to match with any word or other sensual concepts at the time, but my mind raced to find an answer to exactly what I was looking at.

Then I realized I was looking at other mountains, ones at a higher elevation. Oddly, there was no plant life on them...strange. There were sure some interesting sights outside of Argonia. I got that dreamy feeling again, the one I had when I first entered Leyawiin; my travels through Cyrodiil were certainly breath-taking, even if tedious at times.

The sky was crisp and blue as could be, but even now I couldn't see the promising and inviting sign of city walls or even the turrets. When I did, I would be overjoyed to have a place indoors to sit and rest. But it was possible I was nearer to the city than I thought, because I was still elevating.

A spark of hope was set off in my mind as I saw some orderly stone protrusions as I walked further up the path. Slowly more came into view from the top-down, and until I could see they were the turrets of city walls, interrupting nature's vast and comparatively empty landscape with the seemingly super-natural Imperial constructions. After seeing only nature's work for so long, I got the same feeling I did when I first saw Leyawiin.

Guards overlooked the city from the turrets, and it occurred to me with astonishment how much of the province they must have been able to see from up there.

Currently the Bruma was surrounded by greenery. Though it would have been fascinating to see snow for the first time, I was glad I came here in Mid Year given the temparatures I'd heard could occur in this area at that time.

As I continued to climb, I got a better idea of just how huge the city was. Bruma appeared to be larger than Cheydinal. The brick walls were epically stretched. I could see finding Baelin would be difficult, though I was told what quarter of town he lived in; Baenlin was in the North-East part of town.

I surveyed the mountainous terrain. The green planes, in an imperceptibly gradual way, forming into the bare skin of the mountains.

The city got bigger as I walked towards it, but very slowly.

(Champion of Cyrodiil): Arborwatch, Chorrol

* * *

I put my face in my hands as I leaned on the wooden desk, putting my elbows on the small area of its surface that wasn't covered by a book. 

The decision was a heavy one, but just another duty I'd dedicated my time to in my unending mission of abating the injustice that nature endlessly churned out.

_If you're caught, you'll get life in prison!_

_So what? For all I know there's almost no chance of getting caught!_

_Or almost everyone could be getting caught!_

I'd gone through anguishingly long searches for information on the Dark Brotherhood, from the town bookstore to the Mystic Archives, trying to learn as much as I could about them before making my decision. Making a decision on ignorance was a crime, but I knew I needed time to both study and analyze; there was balance that needed to be struck, I just had no idea where that was.

_If you get that prisoner killed before his release, you'll be saving lives._

_But if you pay the Dark Brotherhood you'll be funding those murderers so they can kill some more._

_How do you know how much money you'll be giving them? You don't know anything about their prices._

Whenever I leaned one way, my conscience pulled me the other. I hadn't had a break in thoughts on this subject since it first came to mind. I'd tried to take a break before, but something was holding me down. I couldn't take a break from this decision. I'd have to keep at it until I was done or disregard it all together, the latter being cowardly.

I hated the Black Horse Courier for giving me access to this knowledge. Knowledge meant ability, and ability meant burdens.

If I contacted the Brotherhood, not only would I be at risk with the law, but I'd be funding an organization of murderers. If I didn't contact them, I couldn't imagine how I'd be doing anything other than letting that prisoner get away with his plot. The decision was heavy. Both options sickened me. This very dilemma had made me reluctant to get out of bed this morning.

There were so many different basic pros and cons, each of which contained many components that had to examined so the points and counter-points could be weighed. Each answer brought up multiple new questions causing my thoughts on the issue to branch out into an entangled tree. Its as if I could never be satisfied.

Even with the Oblivion Crisis over, there was still so much suffering. At least with the Oblivion Crisis, the pressure of the situation and orders of Uriel, Jauffre, or Martin pressed me into a straight and narrow path. I could have never seen my current suffering coming back then. I reasonably thought that with a hellish invasion force pushed back and most of the trinkets I'd acquired in Dagon's plane sold to the Mages Guild and museums to buy myself a big house in Chorrol, my life would be comparitively joyful. I was wrong: It was my private thoughts that mattered more than anything, and I knew the cruel nature of the world. Surrounding circumstances were almost always trivial in life when compared to outlook that coated them, I'd discovered. It was the untangible way of things that mattered, and that was simply bad. I could work to change outer circumstances, but I could provide no relief for my painful epiphanies on the nature of the world. Occasionally, I'd feel split seconds of delusion, telling me this was all in my imagination or something, but then the truth would hit me with greater force.

I shook my head to get my thoughts back on track instead of wondering in the inner horrors.

I decided I needed to consult the texts some more. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with the information I had.

I turned back to the opened book:

_If these earlier murders were indeed the contracted work of the Dark Brotherhood, the clients are still surprisingly hard to guess, let alone prove. Even the motives often appear unexplainable, yet in all five cases the attacks resulted in a chain reaction of death flowering from the original murder._

_It was slightly over a century later that the first_

I began skimming, reading only a few words from each paragraph.

_...obviously paid..._

_...higher frequency, but without the after-effects of the previous..._

_...means of funding, or..._

_...Dark Brotherhood..._

_...apparently in Cyrodiil..._

_...discovered by..._

_...the religious aspects..._

I stopped and went back to the beginning of that paragraph. The mention of religion caught my attention, and I wondered if this might be the factor to move my anguishingly sluggish decision along.

_This Imperial Legion raid allowed the deepest insight into the philosophies, methods, and even religious aspects of the Dark Brotherhood of the time. Documents detailing targets, finances, and even training schedules were present in the hide-out, but more interesting were the "sacred texts" (as the Captian referred to them) found, some of which were obviously written long before others._

_What appear to be the oldest text detailed the Dark Brotherhood's reverence of Sithis (which many believe to be a synonym to 'the Void'), and their "moral obligations" to spread a state of stillness and nothingness through the world through their "deathcraft"._

That was the end of the page, but the words did have an impact on me. _Moral obligation to spread a state of stillness and nothingness?_ I had always pictured them as nothing more than amoral criminals. The word "moral" in there was surprising enough. I suddenly felt coldness prickle across my skin.

I knew this issue just got even more complicated. That sickened me. I just wanted peace now. I just wanted to close my eyes and stop all my thoughts. But that wasn't an alien feeling. I knew as long as I lived my life would be gutted of its famous and upper class potential by the obligations I put on my self. That was always the cruel way of the world, even if I hadn't seen it before. Life was naturally unjust. It was embedded in the deepest mechanics of Mundus.

All the sudden, I felt my world shift. I at once understood the Brotherhood's odd philosophies.

Now I could feel a new reason to indeed summon "a card carrying-killer" through the ritual. We had more to discuss than simply the contract. Now my choice seemed clear.

**(Fights-up-close):** Bruma

* * *

I entered the city. Unlike Cheydinhal, the buildings were completely wooden, and almost completely made with raw logs. It was a bit more like Gideon in that aspect. It wasn't anywhere near the time when Baelin would relax in his favorite chair, so I knew I needed to get settled. 

Since it was a day and a half's journey between Cheydinhal and Bruma, I knew I'd need to find a place to sleep. I was in no rush, however, so I decided to stroll the busy streets, looking for an Inn.

It didn't take me long to decide there was something I liked about the town. Something cheerful, comforting even, despite being so far from home.

As I got a bit deeper into the town, I noticed there were three levels of side walks, and two flights of stairs to connect them. The streets appeared to be split into three levels. The lowest level seemed to consist almost completely of houses, so, seeing I wasn't likely to make any discoveries on that level, went up the stone steps. _More climbing. Great. _Pushing my legs with each step, I worked my way up to the mid level.

Done. Maybe now I can go easy on my legs for the rest of the day.

However, as I walked along the mid-level I saw little but shops and guild halls. A demonstration of Cyrodiil's prosperity, and an interesting one at that, but I wanted a place to rest. I wasn't ready to be tourist in this town.

I turned back so I could access the higher flight of stairs. Now this was getting frustrating, because it seemed every time I could possibly need to climb, I did. The frustration was probably amplified by my savage hunger, though.

I ascended a stone stair case once agian. At least I knew this could be my last climb for the day.

I found myself face to face with an Inn almost immediately after my ascent, fortunately. The "Jerall View". For the first time, exactly what one of those seemingly random Cyrodiillic names meant clicked in my mind. A _view_ of the _Jerall_ mountains. The picture of the beer mug on the sign had reawakened my thirst, so I eagerly walked towards the inn.

I opened the doors.

The first room I came upon was quite large, filled with tables and chairs, most of which were unoccupied. It made sense given the time. The publican, the bouncer, and two chatting couples were the only ones present.

I wanted to get a room now so I could have a place to put my belongings, then satisfy the ravenous hunger in me once I'd done that. It would be more than a few hours before I'd try to break into Baenlin's house.


	10. Accidents Happen

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and the author's notes of unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 5, 4E1

It was now 9:00pm, probably the best time to enter Baelin's house, but I felt so comfortable where I was sitting, entranced by the simple entertainment provided. Not the band; the musicians were talented, but that talent seemed to go to waste as they played and sung songs that didn't seem to capture any particular mood. It was the fire. The way it gracefully jumped, the way it disassembled the wood on a micro-level, the warmth it gave me during the chilly night, and in my state, sleepy from the journey and wine, it seemed to be melded into my thoughts; the vision flowing like day-dreams, not seeming tangible. Purely on willpower, however, I withdrew myself, and knew I should get my gear and head to Baelin's house right away. I wasn't hungry, and this was no time for a drink.

I headed down the stairs to my room, trying to prevent gravity from getting the better of me as I descended the steep steps. I stuck my key in the lock, twisted it, and opened the door. The room was quite nice; the bed's quilt was soft, smooth, and decorated. I was provided with a desk and table, plus two chairs. My bag of supplies had been placed on the table.

Most of its contents were simply comforts for my journey and stay. There were only three items I might have use of on this assignment: the armor, lockpicks, and a dagger. I knew I'd take the dagger, though if all went as it was supposed to I wasn't going to use it. It picked it up, briefly enjoying the feeling of power it gave me, then attached its sheath to my side. Taking the armor was debatable. I would no doubt arouse suspicion if I was seen leaving the Inn in black armor minutes before Baelin was killed, but it would be useful for both stealth and protection once I got inside. At first I reasoned I could use my Shadow power to sneak out, so suspicion wouldn't be an issue. The down side would be that I couldn't use my gift in Baelin's house then, because I'd need a good night's sleep to recharge myself.

I prepared to juxtapose the two options and decide which had greater benefits in a mathematical fashion when I realized there was no way to leave this Inn undetected. Even if I was invisible, a door opening with no one to be seen would be suspicious too.

I disregarded the armor, and instead picked up two lock-picks and stuffed them in my pocket. I now felt a good deal more lucid than before as the thrill began to sink in, making my body and mind feel hearty and crisp. I could feel an unexplainable activity in every part of my body as I began my walk toward Baelin's house.

I exited my room, making extra sure to lock the door. I had put my dagger on my left-side, despite being right handed, so the publican wouldn't notice. I knew not to give anyone any suspicion to latch unto.

I opened the doors to the city and was assaulted by a painfully cold breeze that seemed to pass through my clothing. It wasn't like Leyawiin or Gideon; there wasn't enough humidity to hold the heat through the night. The whole town was shaded in darkness, except for lights near the gates and other parts of the city. I remembered where Baelin's house was, looked at my compass, and began heading North-West. The city was almost silent, other than the crackling of the larger outdoor fires. Visually, there was little activity as well. However, temperatures around me were enough to get my attention.

I hugged myself in the cold night air. I saw a few people exiting other Inns and Taverns as I walked, but other than that there was very little activity. Most of Bruma's citizens were in their own isolated little worlds in the comforts of their own home at the moment. This made the city an assassin's playground, with so many shadowy nooks I could use, in my own artistic manner, to my advantage.

I analyzed as much I could as I continued to walk towards the North-West corner, the richer section, of Bruma. None of the houses had windows, and that was probably for the better. The shops were all closed. Those who were not inside were probably at a tavern or inn. This was a time of relaxation for Bruma. It stood to reason, given the time frame my contract could be carried out in.

I came across Baelin's house. Before I did anything else, I tried to get some readings of where Gromm and Baelin were in the house. Heeding the words of the _Manual of Spellcraft_, I tried to clear my mind of all thought, except for a strong faith I could carry out the spell. The world became a jumble of sensation as I pushed the logical strings in my mind away, blurring all mental lines, only telling myself I could do this, and stopping further thought on the subject. Two oddly colored blobs appeared in my field of view, like the lights you see after looking directly into the sun.

I allowed rationality to enter my mind once again, and, using the memory of the moment of "temporary insanity" as Arch-magister gra-Kogg called it, analyzed exactly where the two of them were and what they were doing. Baelin and Gromm, which ever one was which, were both on ground level, and seemingly too close to enter through the front door. I dearly hoped for another way. If there wasn't, I would just wait for him to go to sleep and slay him then. I needed to scan around the walls of the house.

I became aware of how suspicious I would look if I went into the backyard, if you could even call it that, of this man's house. With this awareness came a feeling of another presence pressing its gaze upon me. I pushed magicka into my eyes to check the shadows for any observers. Looking around, however, I saw this presence had been nothing but my own imagination. I walked around the side of his house. The houses in Skyrim were laid-out in a fairly unsynchronized manner, so the walls of Baelin's house weren't parallel to that of his neighbors. By the time I came to the corner, I had to make a tight squeeze.

There was a promising sight: A door to a wine cellar. A small bit of happiness came over me. Not only did I have a back entrance, but I was safe, secure, and comfortable to pick a lock in this secluded area behind Baelin's house.

I took a pick out my pocket and jammed it in the keyhole, manipulating its inner-workings until I heard a satisfying click, then lifted open the heavy cellar door. I made sure it gently arrived at the ground, keeping my hands on it until the handle sunk into the ground.

As I entered, I saw it was indeed a cellar, but not a wine cellar as I'd presumed. Though there were a few alcoholic beverages here and there, there were no racks of wine. In fact, there was quite variety of furniture, but the inelegance of its floor and walls implied it would still be used like any other basement. I could see a set of stairs ahead, which went only a small distance up before turning a corner. The good thing about this room was that stone, of course, wouldn't creak when I stepped on it, but I still wondered how audible I was. I couldn't even take an educated guess, given that I almost never snuck around in anywhere like this in Argonia. Most of the time I was sneaking through the wilderness, ambushing some feisty tribal chief or something a long those lines. Even the few missions that took place inside the walls of Gideon weren't like this, as the construction of the buildings there was drastically different. It was especially hard to imagine what indications of my presence Baelin could pick up given that he was in a relaxed state. Ocheeva's words came back to me as I considered possible sources of failure, her sentence perfectly recorded in my mind, associated with a fuzzy picture of the moment she had made the suggestion.

I ascended the stair case, turned the corner, and saw a wooden door. I knew what an obstacle this could be. It looked heavy, and seemed bound to creak. Again, however, much to my frustration, I couldn't really gauge its audibility. I tried to put myself in Baelin's mindset, but it seemed to require me to stress my mind greatly. Was I so desperate for an answer that I couldn't guarantee accuracy? I wasn't sure, but I felt like tearing myself to pieces for my current incompetence. This was my first contract with a set of parameters, and I was extra zealous about it given the fact that I was an ambassador for the Shadowscales in a way, and had that jerk M'raaj-Dar to prove wrong.

There was, of course, no rush to open the door, so I decided to try to get some readings again. My mind clearing quickly, two colored blobs once again emerged into my field of view. As soon as what I was seeing gained a firm meaning in my mind, they disappeared, but I could see neither of them had moved since my first check.

I stuck the pick into the lock, knowing a suspenseful moment would follow. The tensity of the situation seemed to wrap itself tightly around me. When it finally clicked, I knew the creakiness of the door could mean the difference between success and simple completion.

I slowly pushed the door open, feeling excitement brewing beneath the surface of my hand , and the slightest ache on the arm that did it. I had pushed it about 30 degrees before it made a creaking sound. I felt an odd, and unpleasant tingling sensation on the top half of my head as I realized how I'd lowered my chances of the success. None the less, it was too late to turn back, and I continued to push the door open another 30 degrees, so I could get through. My body now tingling all over, the suspense and importance of the situation grabbing me tightly. Fortunately, the first area I saw was shadowy. Unfortunately, I could hear some talking.

"Gromm, did you hear that?" Someone inquired.

"Yeah, I'll go get it sorted out." A deeper voice said confidently, his steps in rapid, unhesitant succession.

I crept into the shadows, and then froze as Gromm got closer. I didn't dare move, even turn my head. I just did my best to imagine what he was seeing. His footsteps had stopped. I heard the door I'd come in close. More footsteps, but they sounded like they were going in the opposite direction. I still didn't dare move, except quiver ever so slightly. I tried to pour over the sounds I heard, knowing what a role they'd play in my fate. Ache built up in my awkwardly positioned muscles very quickly.

I heard something being picked up. I commanded myself to turn invisible. It was clearly a smart decision, as I saw candle light pour into the shadowy corner, stingy my eyes which were under the influence of the "night-eye" spell and causing the ground nearby to become nothing but white light. I still dared not move, I just tried to imagine what the man was doing, waiting for some other sensory input. He took a step forward, and something changed in the corner of my eyes. I could see a fuzzy image of a few colors, different shades of brown, but that was it.

"Weird," he mumbled to himself, as the shadowy nook was now fully illuminated, but he didn't see me.

"Gromm?" Baelin inquired, "What's going on in there?"

"Whoever it was took off." Gromm replied, his voice deep. Unlike so many others in Bruma, though, both their voices sounded fully Cyrodillic in accent "And don't come back!" He thundered later, causing me to jerk slightly. As the implications of what could have happened settled on me, I felt the same unpleasant tingling. That jerking could have caused my invisibility to fail. But I looked down and discovered, thank Sithis, the movement was small enough to not shake the magical charge. Gromm then turned around to go back to his original tasks. I slowly and carefully turned my head to see the two of them.

Both human, Baenlin was sitting in a cushioned chair, next to a crackling fire, with a beer mug by his side and a book in his hand. Gromm seemed to be making something in the kitchen, but was armed and armored.

I tried to work the implications all that had just happened into some kind of equation. It was a crude method of decision making, but the most effective way of thinking about it I could come up with. I reasoned if I couldn't be seen while I stood still in the light, I probably couldn't be seen while I moved in the dark, as both advantages were cancelled out with a disadvantage.

I began stepping forward, grateful that the floor didn't creak. The next obstacle was a set of stairs which, from my experience, were always the creakiest part of the house. In fact, I figured it might be better avoid them altogether. I reasoned I could grab the edge of the upper floor, pull myself up, and slide under the railings. I pressed my tail against my right leg for precautions.

I pulled myself up, straining my muscles briefly. I then clawed the rest of my body up, having established an almost unexplainable grip on the upper floor. Once that was done, I went from my prone position to hands and knees, then stood up fully.

I was in a bed room now, a rather nice one. It reminded me of that which I had at the Jerall View. I could also see a promising entrance to a crawl space.

I stretched my right foot slightly so it would land on the carpet instead of the wood, then took a brief moment to regain my balance which had been disrupted by the large step, and took another step towards the crawlspace.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the crawlspace door, and pulled the door to the right. Of course, I wasn't pulling completely in that direction in, so it wasn't a perfectly smooth motion. The door got stuck a couple of times, but I did not simply pull harder, in fear of building up force that could cause noise, but instead tried to pull with equal force at a slightly different angle. As soon as the opening was big enough to squeeze through, I entered.

The crawlspace was, of course, not as prepped for human travel as the rest of the house. The wood below was not smooth and polished, but I could see the fastenings. I was so close to completing the mission that I was beginning to get a feel for the kind of force this falling head would carry, and the damage it would do. A feeling of excitement came over me as each of my footsteps landed softly, bringing me closer to the mission's climax.

I played around with the fascinings, though more randomly than methodically, until I could feel them loosening. When they came undone, it registered in my mind the power that little movement I made could cause. I released my grip, bracing myself for a loud noise.

Below I heard a loud crashing. I had passed the test, and sealed the completion of my mission, I realized with a second of relief. I hadn't even begun to think of my escape, but going back the way I came in seemed easy enough.


	11. I suggest you prepare for the worst

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 11, 4E1

**Cleaver**'s face looked stern as he concentrated on the contents of the chest infront of his bed, which was filled with all sorts of assassin trinkets from what I could see, from grappling hooks to arrows. It really made me realize what a beginner I was, and what a rich art assassination really was; my chest didn't contain half as much, just some gold and a few lock-picks. I was slightly annoyed that he'd dived into an activity which required so much concentration on his part in the middle of our conversation, especially when he didn't seem to understand my questions in the first place.

"**But I mean what will they call it when they make another branch? What kind of hand has** **six fingers?**" I asked, looking straight at him as if making sure not to give him another opportunity to escape the conversation. His response was slightly delayed, due to the fact that his mind was only half in the conversation. He took a lockpick from his chest and put it in his pocket.

**"I suppose you could always say the Listener is the palm, and each sanctuary, a finger."** He had a good point, but his tone seemed irritatingly serious to what I thought would be a whimsically flowing conversation. I felt slightly embarrassed.

**"I must get going now."** he added after picking up the last of his supplies **"May you walk always in the shadow of Sithis, dear sister."**

**"Right, tell** Captain Leland **I said** 'hi'." I replied, feeling slightly foolish afterwards seeing how seriously **Cleaver** took everything. Still, I was glad he was carrying out the contract to kill that annoying little captain of the Cheydinhal guard.

I brought my attention back to cleaning my dagger. I wondered how I ever managed to clean this thing. No matter what substance I used, it just seemed to smear itself on the surface destroying every inch of reflectivity, or it would, at best, cloud the usual reflection. Of course, it would be blood stained again soon enough, but I really didn't have anything better to do.

It wasn't long afterwards that I heard the doors open. I didn't lift my eyes, and just wondered who it was, but I could hear they were approaching me. No clanking metal, so it wasn't Gogron. I could see something dark out of the corner of my eyes, where I'd guess someone's legs would be. That meant it probably wasn't M'raaj-Dar. I looked up, and saw Vincenti Valteri.

"**Fights-up-close**, if I may have a moment of your time?" He asked.

"Sure, what is it?" I said, putting down the dagger, immediately losing interest.

"I have a contract that needs fulfillment. Your proper execution of Baenlin bodes well for your future, so I've come to trust your professionalism. However, this contract requires an expert in infiltration. Are you ready?"

"Infiltration? Sure, sounds perfect." I replied. Infiltration was what I was used to more than anything else.

"As always you fail to disappoint me." I wondered briefly how I should feel about the odd comment "Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth. He thinks he's safe in prison in the Imperial City prison. He is tragically mistaken." Vincenti said, his fanged mouth forming a grin. Hearing any spirited words coming from the mouth of my family members did wonders to get me revved up for a mission. "About six months ago a prisoner escaped the Imperial prison through a secret set of tunnels connected to the city sewer system. Since then the grate has been tightly locked, but I'm sure you can pick it opened."

"A sewer...ah...great." I said in a sarcastic but friendly manner. "Where's the grate exactly?"

"On the hill which the city rests on, under the prison itself. I'm sure you recall what the capital looks like." He replied, he was right. I was already eager to put my agility and mental abilities to into a passionate testing ground.

"You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the prison guards. Keep that in mind, as the client is a very...influential figure." Vincenti replied.

"Right. What about these secret tunnels?"

"Finding your way should be fairly intuitive. Just stay in the section of the sewers above which the prison lies and look for an entrance to a brick tunnel. That brick tunnel will lead you to an empty cell, across from your target." Then Vincenti gave a look as if he was in a second of strenuous thought and then added "However, I'm not sure exactly what kind of hostilities you might encounter on your way to Dreth's cell. I suggest you prepare for the worst."

"Got it." I replied "Don't worry, I can handle this."

"Oh and one more thing." Vincenti said, spitting out the words quickly "Your pay for this contract will be doubled if you manage to free another prisoner: an Imperial by the name of Claudius Arcadia. He should be able to escape through the route you entered. With the intelligence our client provided us, it should be a relatively easy escape." I was partially relieved to be able to dispel the boredom that was weighing down on my mind at the moment, which had been starting to frustrate me.

"Farewell," the vampire said cheerfully. I lifted myself from my bed, which I had been sitting on. _Prepare for the worst._ It occurred to me that probably meant paying M'raaj-Dar a visit to buy some supplies. Something I wasn't eager to do.

Of course, memory of him both reawakened anger and filled me with tension. Our first hostile encounter hadn't been our last, and I couldn't help but fantasize sneaking up on him and plunging my knife into his back the way I'd done with so many others; how difficult he could make the simple act of buying assassin gear. It was odd, now that I thought about it that there were so few people in this branch of the brotherhood, that I could only buy gear from him. It might have been better that the brotherhood was smaller, so people like him couldn't disappear into the crowd before I could seek retaliation, but I pictured the brotherhood being bigger.

The tension grew as I made my way closer to the training room. An odd kind of coldness was shooting through my arms.

I hated this man not only for his rudeness, but also for how stressful he made such simple tasks, and how he tainted so many aspects of the normally whimsical family atmosphere.

But it wasn't my only source of worry. There was also "Scar-tail"'s disappearance, which also made the comradery here feel less heartfelt than it should have. These two people were the reasons I felt somewhat reserved about getting too comfortable with anyone here, everyone reminded me of the issues I had with them. I liked the others, but it just wasn't the same; I didn't feel like any relationship could be as deep with people who I'd only know for about two weeks, especially when I was getting used to the idea of losing a friend.

In the training room, I saw Ocheeva and Telandril not far from the door. They seemed to be parting upon my entry, as if having finished the conversation. A welcome excuse to delay, given that I actually had something on my mind to ask **Stabber**. I knew my window of opportunity to ask her a question and still make it seem a casual affair was closing with every step should took.

"**Stabber**, can I ask you a question?**" **I said, seizing the opportunity with a bit of willpower, pushing the words out of my mouth. She turned and stopped to face me and, more to my surprise, so did Telandril.

"Of course, **Fights-up-close." **She said, her facial expression showing concern. Shadowscales weren't known for asking question, and the worry, though it was about M'raaj-Dar, was probably evident in my voice. Again, I felt a bit silly, seeing my question wasn't as serious or important as Ocheeva's concern seemed to justly warrant.

"Despite all I learned about this organization, I expected the Cyrodiil branch to have more members. Are all the branches this small?" I didn't particularly like how the words felt rolling off my tongue. It seemed like a dumb question to ask when she might have been busy, even though it was on my mind. My mind was racing through the words afterwards, scolding me.

"Yes, well, we've had some tragedies in the recent years, and, oddly, our recruitment here seems to be low recently. I'm not sure about the other sanctuaries but I..." She stopped, as if unsure whether to continue, but seemed to decide it was too late to turn back "I've heard some talk. This past year, in another sanctuary, some family members have been found..." she again stopped, but this time her pause was shorter "murdered.**" **The words sent shockwaves through my body, and I felt a childish urge to look over my shoulders.

"Murdered? Within the sanctuaries?" I, now fully drawn into the conversation, inquired.

"Well, I don't know all the details." Ocheeva replied, noticing the subject was about to change, I became extra self-conscious. "Either way, I heard you talking with Vincenti." My eyes were darting around now, trying to find a good resting place as she spoke, not trying to stay one place too long, "I'm presuming he told you about the contract we assigned you; No Dark Brother or Sister has successfully infiltrated the Imperial City prison in the last three-hundred years. This will truly be a test of your abilities. None the less, what he says is true: those secret tunnels will prove useful." She had obviously changed the subject for a reason, which made the topic seem all that more uncomfortable, but I played along.

"Can't be worse than Fort Swampmoth, right?" I said, but I'd almost forgotten the note I'd started the conversation on with Ocheeva's mention of the murder within our ranks. "I mean, all I need to do is get through the sewers, into the secret tunnels, pick the lock to the cell I arrive in, then pick the one to Dreth's cell and stab him."

Telandril came into the conversation a bit after those words.

"This prisoner, why give him a chance to escape or fight back? Pierce his heart with an arrow right through the bars. Quick and easy."

"An arrow? They call me **Fights-up-close** for a reason." Then realized she wouldn't know what my name translated to in Cyrodiillic. I thought about how to best explain what my name meant; A literal translation wouldn't make nearly as much sense. "Its Argonian for 'fights up close'. And trust me, they don't take guesses when they give us our names."

Telandril shrugged, her expression now a bit more solemn, and I felt I'd been a bit aggressive with my words, maybe because I'd had other things on my mind. It made me feel all the more guilty when she took it so submissively

"Maybe you're right. I guess bringing one bow and one arrow wouldn't hurt too much." Then looked at one of the dummies, discomfort from the conversation starting to wrap itself around me. I regretted ever starting it; it was all to delay my encounter with M'raaj-Dar. I wondered if Telandril had a good idea, though, with the arrow suggestion. Still, I couldn't feel strongly either way, not now at least. The thoughts were just too scattered. I tried to analyze her words as I walked, but none of my conclusions seemed to stick.

I continued toward M'raaj-Dar, pushing myself through every step. He was casting magical spells at one of the target boards again, chilling the nearby air. Frost damage no doubt, or "hypo-thermal damage" as Manual of Spellcraft called it. Intense but unexplainable stimulus seemed to be flowing through every muscle of my body as I got close to him, knowing the encounter would be another war of words. It was nice to be reminded he had to sell all the supplies, though.

M'raaj-Dar stopped his spell casting and, looked at me. "Get away from me." He said, a perfect example of the hollow shell of rudeness he tried to make himself look like around me.

"No way, M'raaj, sell me something: Ocheeva's orders." I said. He didn't even respond, he just kicked the bag towards me. I'd ultimately got what I asked for, so I didn't want to push him any further and possibly lose the ground I gained. I walked over, though my mind wasn't on the contents of the bag, it was on him, I didn't feel comfortable being so close to him. Right now the training room felt more like a war ground than a practice room. I shuffled through the bag, though I was paying a lot less attention to the contents than it appeared. There was something odd though. Three apples were in the bag.

"By Sithis!" He said abruptly, pushing me a little further, adding to the destructive energy flowing through my veins "I don't have all day! Hurry it up." I removed one of the apples from the bag and held it up to him.

"Maybe if you explained to me what this is doing here, I would." I asked, trying to make my tone sound scornful.

"It's a p...apple. Don't you get hungry on your assignments, or did your ten years of training teach you how survive without food?" I could tell he was trying to cross the line again as best he could with the little time he had to think of a witty remark. But there was something else he was trying to pull, I knew, something worse. I wasn't going to keep my anger helplessly locked up beneath the surface

"There's more free food in the cabinets then you could fit in that entire bag, idiot. What aren't you telling me?"

I lifted my head, anticipating what his retaliation would be against the verbal attack. Instead he just rolled his eyes "Just pick your trinkets and go." In truth, I was somewhat relieved he had let me have the last insult. It was a refreshing change from the normal flow of our conversation.

I continued searching the bag. I knew he was watching me carefully, and I was concentrating on his presence just as much, but I was also becoming extra self-conscious, and tried to keep my sorting methodical, trying to put some degree of intelligence in every move. I didn't want to look like an idiot by coming all this way to not buy anything, so I picked up a cheap bow and an arrow. I held it up to his face.

"How much will this cost me?" I said, holding both to his face.

"One-hundred septims, at least." He said. The words hit me hard. That would be a significant dent in what I'd work towards. It was instinctual reaction to demand lower.

"Should I see what Ocheeva thinks about all this?" I asked, refusing any form of submission.

"Sixty septims. No lower." He said. As long as I was ahead, I didn't see reason to push further. I bent down and gently placed the bow and arrow on the floor, then reached into my pocket, feeling the for six 10-septim coins. These constant financial set-backs were getting frustrating. None the less, I trickled the six coins into his open palm.

"You ripped me off blind, I hope you're happy with yourself." He responded as I picked up the bow. Anger was brewing inside me, doubled by the fact that he dared to play the 'good-guy' in all this, but nothing truly clever flowed into my head, and that just caused deeper anger.

"I am." I responded bitterly. As I walked away with the new bow and just a single arrow, I found my mind still stuck in the conversation even though I knew practicing archery was more important. I found myself satisfied with it overall, though my adrenaline was still flowing, and I was still feeling combative.

I went over to the target range, but my mind was flowing with the images and words of the conversation, not the assassination. I knew I had to prove him wrong, and this contract was my next step, but I wished for quicker results.


	12. Pliability, Mr Lachance

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 12, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**)

* * *

Escaping the smell of sewage was as refreshing as the drink I had taken after the walk to this city. I gladly and deeply inhaled the clean air. 

Then I noticed I was picking up on something. Some continuous noise. Human noise. A conversation. A Cyrodillic conversation. I tried to concentrate on it, separating the words and sentences, but it was frustratingly hard. I decided I needed to creep closer.

" 'course I'm proud to do my duty, but it's a waste of time! Just what are we guarding? Cold stone and shadow." One man said, he sounded slightly angry, almost defensive.

A voice slightly closer gave a small sigh, then said, "I'm _not _disagreeing with you, believe me. No one's got any reason to come here." His tone hinted he was trying to cool the conversation down. His attempt seemed to fail, however.

"But will the Captain listen?" The he asked rhetorically, then continued, in a mocking voice "Noooo. We must have a presence. The prison must remain secure."

I wondered if I should use the conversation to my advantage. Like with every unexpected occurrence, I began weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each, but it was hard to pay attention when I was interested in listening to the conversation.

"Yeah, what a laugh, huh? Just who are we guarding anyway? Dreth and Arcadia are the only ones rotting down here."

The conversation would have them distracted and the words would make my footsteps harder to hear, but they were, of course, very close to me at the moment. It all depended on where they planned to go once they finished conversing.

The other soldier decided to shift the conversation to a lighter note "Ah, well, I guess you can't blame Captain Montrose too much. This is his big career move, after all. Got to impress that lot upstairs."

I tried to think about the appropriate significance I should assign each advantage and disadvantage presented by the idea of walking past them during their conversation.

"Yeah, true enough." The other one said, after a bit of thought "Well, I better get back to my duty and hey, don't forget, we're meeting at the Bloated Float for drinks tonight."

I realized that their return to their posts had an equal chance of being for the better or worse. The only thing I truly knew is that they were distracted now. I was contented with that logical conclusion and I knew I should move before the conversation ended, which would likely be pretty soon. I pushed the Shadow's magic onto the surface of my skin. I was satisfied I'd constructed another tactical policy to store in my head for future reference.

"How could I forget? I love to watch you coware before that big Orc bouncer." He replied jokingly.

I moved my feet out into the relatively well-lit area in which the two troopers were conversing. One of them was staring right through me. A fascinating sensation considering I was moving and in the light.

"Pbft. I ain't afraid of nobody, courage is my middle name, I..." The talking soldier whipped his head in my direction. I froze instantly. Apparently he'd detected something of my presence, but, like so many others, made the horrible mistake that he'd imagined it shortly afterwards "...forget it." He said. I knew I'd made him lose his train of thought. I could hear the clanking of metal as he walked away. Not shortly after I was out of the room they had their conversation in.

I could hear the second man walking towards my area. In a distant corner, there were shadows to shelter me when my natural camouflage wore off. Every step had a thought behind it as I headed to that shadowy corner, stepping across the floor with the assassin's grace, avoiding lose tiles and ground rock.

(**Learns-fast**)

* * *

There was a cold breeze as I dismounted from the horse. I had gone through so much to get here quickly; a dedication born of worry. But my previously predictable, secure life managing the Shadowscales for the Argonian Royal Court had taken a new course. Now my emotions and thoughts were deeper. The strengths of the world around me was dawning on me. I had been so overly assured of the success of all the Shadowscale subjects, but it now seemed I could be wrong. **Goes-in-heavy **had been lost, possibly defected, literally days before he would be shipped to the Dark Brotherhood. My passions for my Shadowscale training had been dulled by our initial loss of him, but when it seemed likely he betrayed us, it made things so much worse. I had so much power as the head of the Cyrodillic transfer branch, but it seemed I had mucked it up. It made me recall the same insecurity and incompetence I had when I was just a Royal Gaurdsman, emotions I thought I'd seen the last of when I'd made it to the top of the Shadowscale program. 

I was worried sick about what "Scar-tail"'s defection might mean, and worried sick was certainly an aptly named term. The muscles in my throat were ready to guide up my reluctantly eaten dinner as I thought about the horrible circumstances that had fallen on me. I knew I'd let Lucien down. I'd be asking for his help, which he would surely be gracious enough to grant, but I could offer nothing in return. Right now, I felt defeated by the world. I just wanted to lie in bed, enjoy the peacefulness of inactivity, maybe even fool myself this was a dream so I could wake up enlightened. Just stop worrying, stop worrying about everything. No more work, no more confident planning, just peace.

I had been to Fort Farragut before, but it had been over a year and the meetings were scheduled then. Still, I'd never forget Lucien's secret entrance: the trap-door concealed inside a tree. I bent over and tried to forget what I was doing as I knocked on the trap door. I knew Lucien wouldn't be happy about my words. My hands tingled afterwards as I waited in a moment of grueling suspense for his response. I wanted an excuse to put this off just one more day.

"Come, but you enter at your own risk." Lucien's said from the depths of his sanctuary. Obviously he couldn't see who I was, so I knew I had nothing to worry about in terms of physical harm. None the less, I could feel tension wrapping around me tighter, my stomach starting to ache, as I climbed the ladder.

Like so many other places in Cyrodiil, Lucien's sanctuary was built of stone bricks, which miraculously seemed to hold together, and stay on the ceiling instead of falling. His home was never well-lit, and was probably more intimidating on the inside than it was on the outside.

"Ah, I must admit this is quite a surprise. You come all the way to Cyrodiil. I believe this meeting is...unscheduled, is it not?" He said as I released my sweaty hands from the ladder and turned to face him. I felt tension build inside me every time I looked directly at him. How should I start? How casual should I look? Should I keep my eyes where they were? He was in his pure black robes as usual, standing in the little spot of light in his room. The one spot that would not swallow his dark figure.

"Yes," I replied, I hated even the sound of my own words "and I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Lachance, but it seems we may have learned the location of the missing agent. We sent a search party of three royal agents to the South of Blackwood, and it hasn't reported back." I was glad to at least have that part of the conversation out of the way. I began wondering what his reply would be instantly. My own words were quickly getting reanalyzed in my head.

"What are you suggesting, **Learns-fast**?"

"It seems impossible the party could have been simply lost, or killed by any creatures or diseases inhabiting that swamp. Mr. Lachance, I hope you will understand my worries; I believe **Goes-in-heavy** has defected." My own words stuck in my head long after they were spoken, stirring up the silent, dark harmony of the room. Simply acknowledging the truth behind these words seem to send shock permeating through my body. Lucien was silent, but his face showed a wide-eyed anger.

"Listen, Mr. Lachance, I came here to seek your help. The so called 'Scar-tail' is well trained and, I fear his defection could inspire others within the Shadowscale ranks if they were to make contact with him. Worse, if the existence of our Shadowscale program, as well as our other activities were exposed somehow, our secrecy would be compromised. Please, Mr. Lachance, I request you sanction a contract: Get your assassins, more than one, to search that area and, if he has indeed turned, kill Scar-tail. He needs to be taken out, but I'd prefer not to use anymore of my own; whatever information he uncovered which converted him may cause the same in the others. You know there's a lot we've needed to keep from them." I replied. Was the worst of the conversation over, or just beginning? I could not tell.

"You promised me loyal followers of Sithis! I spent twenty years crafting that boy! Four years of conditioning! Ten years of training! Six following his progress! Now, you request something of me, when you cannot even keep your end of the bargain!?"

"Pliability, Mr. Lachance, that's all I ever promised you with these children." I said in a toneless voice. I felt somewhat hurt by his yelling. Not angry yet, because I knew I was mostly to blame. Just hurt. I knew the failure had been partially my fault, but I had a chance to cool his emotions so his thoughts could fall into place and he could see this problem needed to be tackled.

"Pliability!?" He shouted. I was already severely shaken by the flaring in his temper, but it didn't seem to die down "That does me no good when they are not in my hands!"

I could feel some anger starting to boil inside of me, I noticed my hand twitched slightly before I spoke, but even with this anger no passionate words came to me, increasing my feeling of helplessness "Yes, well I'm sorry Mr. Lachance. But our mistakes have already been made. We cannot reverse them. This is a very serious matter. Both our existence depend heavily on secrecy. The Empire does not know the grasp we hold on the people of Argonia. If our secrets were compromised, I think a second war is a serious possibility."

"A second war!? The Empire thinks it has already won. You expect me to risk my own assassins for your follies!?" Lucien replied. His words pushed me a bit further each time. He was kicking me while I was already down now. I tried to think of how my anger should play into my next words. Should I attack his role in all this? Suppress it? Use it to inspire my point? But no decision could be made, it just ran into a mental wall. I was unprepared for such aggression, so all the anger did was add to confusion. I knew at a guttural level with infuriating certainty he was behaving despicably, but I was unprepared, and the ideas in my head couldn't find rational words.

"And it must stay that way! You trained them as well! I did not come all this way to be turned down!" The anger could not find its way out through my words, though. He only saw how much pain he was causing me, and it did nothing to dissuade him.

"I will give you no assassitance! You may _request _such from Ocheeva. She has become mistress of the Cheydinhal sanctuary. However, I will offer no pay, force no promotion, make no record of this contract, provide no special equipment, and will not take responsibility for any deaths occurring." His words became more and more personal. I was deeply angry at him, and frustrated at my own inability to defeat his arguments, though I knew they were wrong. I tried to think of something to say back, to disprove him, put him in his place even, but only the anger at him, frustration at my own incompetence to explain a point I knew so instinctively was so far superior to his. And part of me was hurt to see such betrayal. I could feel an aching lump in my throat as I realized how I'd kidded myself, it was a business relationship. How could I expect true devotion to Argonia from a Sithis worshiping assassin's business? Between my anger and surprise at Ocheeva's promotion, I had almost forgotten the pretenses under which I came here.

"I will do that Lucien, I can deal with this myself. I just thought you might want a say in these affairs." It was, of course, a lie, but I couldn't submit to him. I went back to ascending the ladder before my cursed emotions could show. I was going to Ocheeva, but I could not separate my mind from Lucien's insolence. Lucien needed to pay for his treachery to Argonia, and I was reluctant to forget that for a second. As I ascended, I couldn't even begin to plan what I would tell Ocheeva, my mind so focused on retribution towards Lucien.

(**Fights-up-close**)

* * *

I once again moved to the next shadow as the guard concentrated on the note on his table. I had already seen the door above. Every move I made had its time and purpose and, seeing the length of the note the legionary was reading, I judged it was a good time to pull myself onto the ledge on top of which the door to the prison cell was. That decision had been quick to come to me, and I was glad of that. 

I stood up straight and wrapped my fingers around the top protrusion of the ledge. Unlike the Shadowscale uniform, the Dark Brotherhood suit covered my hands. It had a surface with more friction than my sweaty palms, but made my fingers less sensitive. I still felt I preferred the Shadowscale uniform, but I supposed it was a matter of getting used to this one.

I pulled my body up; the force and will I channeled into my muscles was enough to make my arms and body quiver, but I suffered silently. Once the majority of my body had made it up, I used the seemingly unexplainably strong friction on my arms to move deeper into the protective shadows. I could hear the guard rise from his chair abruptly, so I'd probably gotten his attention, though that was of little consequence. I was in the shadows. I lied in those shadows, as to make sure not to create any more disturbance in the environment until his suspicion dissipated. My breaths were constrained somewhat as I lied, stomach down on the cold stone. I could feel my heart pounding, knowing the powers of the shadows were once again undergoing a test, and stayed perfectly still.

Once I heard the guard sit back down I slowly lifted myself back up and channeled magicka into my eyes. Once again I saw the door that had been hiding in the shadows. I crept towards it and stuck my pick in the lock. I reflected on how much power that little piece of metal gave me, how liberating it was, and how much it put me above so many others. I dexterously manipulated the inner workings of the lock. Though all the movements felt natural beyond any challenge, it was plenty satisfying to once again feel the metal pick in my hand, feel the hearty forces of the door's inner mechanics at work, and hear the familiar rattles; the final click was better than all of that.

I cautiously pulled the wooden door open, hoping to maintain the current silence. Tension was building up in me, ready to snap back at any abrupt noise. Fortunately, the door opened with almost no creaking. I was greeted by a set of steps. I wanted to get another reading, see if there was any life up ahead.

I stared straight ahead, allowing my emotions to be flat and dull. I tried to let my mind and vision drift out of focus, except for a strong faith that I could pull this off. First I simply starred ahead, mentally scolding myself when I focused on any particular object. My vision and logic slowly blurred, everything becoming wisps of light. I tried to maintain that state, giving no thoughts too intense, and let my subconscious communicate with me while I listened perfectly. But I could see no indication of life ahead. No life nearby, that is, so I continued up the stairs. The room was tauntingly silent, making my mind pull itself back like a bow. I noticed something peculiar in the distance. It was like a crater, but in the wall, no doubt the secret entrance. As I approached it, it reminded me of the tunnel between the abandon house and the Cheydinhal sanctuary. Relief came over me as I saw it was the entrance to that cell, and it now felt so good to escape the unknown. I felt silly for having panicked so quickly.

As I crept up the tunnel, I could see a glow moving across the walls. It stung my magically influenced eyes before I let the magic dissipate. I'd almost forgotten the vibrant world of colors that regular vision held, and could see the walls of the cell I was about to enter were glowing a fiery orange. There was a wooden table across from this secret entrance, or exit, with beige clay cups and a pitcher.

I could hear a conversation as I approached.

"I have to admit, I'm gonna miss you, Dreth." Someone said, sounding slightly amused with himself. I was sure he was a prison guard. "Late night beatings, your pitiful cries for help..."

"Filthy cur!" Another voice replied "I always told you I'd get out of here! My time here is almost up, and there's nothing you can do about it!" his words drenched in an angry optimism.

"Yeah, and what's it been?" The guard said, seemingly unphased "Seven? Eight years? We've had a good, long run you and me...always knew it would end some day." His tone sounded, in the slightest bit, mournful. A really odd relationship, but I guessed I really couldn't imagine how any two people would come to feel about each other after so many years in such an...awkward situation.

"Eleven years!" Dreth yelled, as if deeply offended by the guard's underestimate "Eleven years in this rat-infested hole! But I'm getting out, and you'll still be stuck in here!" Dreth said, then cackled, as if to give his weak argument some sorely needed reinforcement.

The guard's tone was now serious, maybe even solemn "Oh yeah? Where will you go, huh? What will you do?" He stopped for a second, as the words sunk into the three of us, with nothing by the crackling torch fire to get in their way "You can't survive out their Dreth, you're an animal. You belong in a cage." The words seemed to mean more to me, oddly enough, than Dreth.

"I'll remember that when I'm lying on the beaches of Summerset Isle with your wife, you Imperial pig!" He said, sounding insanely confident about his awful comeback. The guard, thinking alike to me, instantly dived in to have some fun.

"Right!" He replied, as if he could decide whether to laugh or speak "And you'll be rich too! And you'll become a king!" Then, shifted into a more serious tone, his voice quieting "And you know what I think Dreth? You'll be back. Your lot always come back."

"You'll see, you Imperial dog! When I get out of here everyone in Tamriel will know my name! Valen Dreth! Valen Dreth! Valen--"

"Alright, alright!" The guard said, now annoyed "I'm tempted to let you out of there right now if you'd just shut up!" and began walking away before Dreth could match another animal with the word 'Imperial'. I could hear a sophisticated locking mechanism in the works as a farther off door opened and closed before the clanging of the metal uniform died down.

It was time to see what Valen Dreth really looked like. I took the bow into my right hand and the arrow into my left, enjoying the feeling of heavy, destructive power. I had practiced half an hour for this one shot.

I advanced further out of the cell, but stayed in the shadows which had returned since the guard with the torch walked away. I could not make out much about Valen with the poor lighting at this time and place, but at least I knew who he was so I wouldn't end up killing Claudius Arcadia instead. The colors of the world once again disappeared as I channeled magicka back into my eyes.

It was like so many fearful fantasies people had when they were alone in the dark; the ones that never came true so many times yet we still believed them. All alone in the night, with death unexplainably hitting you from the shadows. I wondered if Dreth had given that any thought; the prison would probably get pretty spooky at night. I put the arrow in its appropriate place. I pulled with my right hand and pushed against the wooden part of the bow with my left, my hands quivering with the force that would soon be transferred to Dreth.

I released the arrow, and it flew straight and true towards Dreth, who was only about twenty feet away.

He let out a brief yell of pain, or perhaps surprise, as he looked down at the arrow firmly stuck in his chest. No one would hear it. No one but Claudius and I, that is. He stumbled around in a state of panic, doing his best to absorb the unexplainable turn in his road of fate.

Dreth had died in extremely helpless circumstances. No doubt the name "Valen Dreth" would be talked about for quite some time, but not in the way he'd planned.

It was unclear exactly when he died, but I knew my next objective: Lead Claudius Arcadia out the same way I came in.

(**Learns-fast**)

* * *

My mind was still pouring over the conversation as I walked towards the abandoned house. Here and now were not foremost in my mind as I got closer to the abandoned house. I knew I needed to focus on other matters; I'd made that conclusion logically plenty of times, but it never felt like I should be thinking about anything but how to make Lachance pay. I couldn't be defeated so easily, yet dealing with this rogue and the unexpected turn of events with Lucien was so much to handle. The sheer magnitude of the situation seemed to taunt me in my thoughts. I had an urge to tare anything to pieces; or better yet, a pain, disguising itself as an urge. I knew destroying no one but Lucien and **Goes-in-heavy** themselves would have satisfied me now. 

I practically forgot how I arrived in front of the abandon house, but knew what to do next. This was not the first time I'd visited the Cheydinhal sanctuary, so I had a key.

The abandon house looked as though it had been through a war. You'd immediately assossiciate a place like that with your own destruction. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but I had a feeling the choice was something deeper. Lachance didn't want to instill loyalty into his subjects directly, he wanted them to become fond of the macabre nature of their job more than anything else, the way he had so long ago.

I looked over my shoulder to satisfy an absurd bit of paranoia, then opened the well.

The ladder was made of a soft wood, its construction was uneven and unpolished, and it descended on a narrow passage which almost scraped against my back. The sanctuary was actually a bit prettier on inside than it was on the outside. Unlike the house, it was well intact. The only aspect that might make a normal person feel uncomfortable were the shadows.

The last time I met with Ocheeva was before her promotion. I knew she'd have changed by now. I knew the transition they all took. They were always blissfully unaware of the shaping and conditioning they went through, and what a secure and straight path their minds worked in. It was odd, though, that Ocheeva managed to surpass her twin brother to such an extent. It was odder to think she was now twenty-four. It seemed like it hadn't been that long ago since I'd last visited. Of course, that wasn't the case.

I knew where Ocheeva's office would be, given that she was now mistress of the sanctuary. I could feel the anger starting to brew inside me once Lucien re-entered my mind, and with him came the thought of **Goes-in-heavy**, and the fact that I had so much to deal with in one week seemed to taunt me. I could see no one else in the main room. Good, the quicker I got this over with the better. Ocheeva's office was not far from the entrance I'd used.

I began anticipating her reaction as I made the significant entrance into that significant room. Then again, the significance of the conversation I was having probably didn't fully dawn on me, as I was doing everything a bit absent mindedly, and entering the room just reminded me I was, temporarily, submitting to Lachance. It nagged at me. I was frustrated at all the various forces pulling at me. Was I taking one step closer to breaking the sacred rule of never allowing my enemies to defeat me by talking with Ocheeva now? Lucien certainly won the battle, the real question was the war. My passion gave me an advantage over him. He thought he already won. Now this was my war, not his.

Ocheeva's familiar, diversely colored face and long fingers withdrew from her reading as she looked up from her book, reminding me how much we'd changed her life by abducting her from the **Rock-Hold **tribe during her infancy. Of course, she was told what all the others were. She thought she had been willing presented to us.

Her mouth formed into a grin, her eyes widening slightly, recognizing me instantly even after the long period of absence.

"**I am honored by your presence! How can Stabber be of assistance?**" I was glad to be in the company of someone I might still be able to consider an ally, but even now the relationship felt more business like, and I didn't feel like lingering there. The conversation with Lachance made me feel uncomfortable in the Dark Brotherhood's presence. She was a weapon I could use against **Goes-in-heavy** right now. A tool, at least. I couldn't say it felt all that friendly, though.

I walked towards her desk and pulled up the chair across from her. She hadn't dropped the habit of referring to herself in third person now and then, but I wondered how much she'd changed. I had a feeling it was enough to put a barrier between us. They always changed when they joined the Dark Brotherhood. Pliability, after all.

"**Hi, Stabber. It's been awhile. I see you got promoted.**" I chose my words carefully, fearfully almost. They felt frustratingly artificial, constrained even, but Ocheeva may have been my last hope within the Dark Brotherhood to get a contract sort of sanctioned. She nodded contently.

"**Lucien isn't here very often, so he trusts me to keep the sanctuary in order.**" Dropping the traditional title of 'Mr. Lachance'. Such a casual address made my blood simmer; not because I thought she'd lost respect for Lucien, quite the opposite, it sounded like they were becoming closer.

I held back any unsavory comments about Lucien for now, despite the challenge to do so.

"**Listen, Stabber. I'm sure you know about the missing Shadowscale.** **We may have learned of his location, but it doesn't look good.**" I replied. We had always been so careful in our conditioning; never once in all my time serving the Argonian Royal Court did we have a traitor. She stared at me curiously, forcing me to speak words I hadn't really planned out thoroughly. **"We sent a search party to search the South-East niben which hasn't reported back. I need you to see what you and the other assassins can do in their place. I need you to find out what happened to that search party." **Hoping dearly she wouldn't ask any questions. I just had to hope she wouldn't use her brother or their newest recruit, because I couldn't tell her that was a concern of mine. The danger Lucien's insolence had caused, of course, was not lost to me. It ignited my rage once more. His refusal had done far more than harm my pride. It had seriously endangered Argonia. I squeezed my hands to fists trying to contain the destructive energy that was so fragilely contained in me as I awaited her response.


	13. An Argonian Matter

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 13 4E1

My feet were aching from my long walk over here. I was so close to making enough money to get a horse, but, as I'd been disappointed to find out, neither Cheydinhal's nor the Imperial City's stables could sell me a reasonably price horse. I'd have to strongly hope my next contract would be elsewhere. None the less, I was eager to hear Vincenti's words, having completed the contract and freed Claudius Arcadia. Besides satisfying him and myself, I was glad to know I'd earned myself a very significant amount of coin.

I rattled the door to the sanctuary, my heart swelling with its usual pride in the Dark Brotherhood's presence, proud to be part of such an intimidating and dutiful organization. Vincenti himself was the first one to open the door.

"So, you infiltrated the Imperial prison, eliminated Valen Dreth, freed Claudius Arcadia, and killed not one guard. Most excellent! Not only will I double your standard reward, but I will present you with a bonus." Vincenti said. The assassination came back to me in a moment of extreme satisfaction. The escape with Arcadia had caused some close calls, and it was frustrating to teach the old man the basics of stealth, but at least I'd succeeded. Vicenti held the door opened, signaling me to come in. After I'd stepped in, he closed it again, a feeling of safety wrapping around me. He signaled me to wait while he went to his room to get my appropriate reward. I did so, imagining the vast amount of potential in those 400 septims I would soon be delivered and reliving parts of the assignment. The use of strategy, the fluent coordination; it was paying off wonderfully in the Dark Brotherhood so far.

He returned with three bags in his hand and eagerly handed them to me. I enjoyed the feeling off all the weighted-wealth in my hands, but it was a bit hard to handle. "I've already had instructions written up for your bonus. Now, I'm afraid Ocheeva needs to see you in her office as quickly as possibly. She told me it is an urgent matter."

Ocheeva and I. That seemed to indicate some sort of business with Argonia. My heart rose; A return to Shadowscale business might mean the recovery of things I'd left that part of my life without. What if they'd finally found **Goes-in-heavy**? What if he made it to the sanctuary? But "urgent" had to mean something here.

I walked towards Ocheeva's office, trying to imagine what kind of surprise would be there, but no real satisfactory answer came to my head.

My assumption was further confirmed as I saw Tienaava standing in Ocheeva's office upon my entry; this definitely had to do with Argonia. His scales met with casual clothing, a sight that seemed to clash after seeing him so many times in the Dark brotherhood uniform. Though his attire was so casual, his expression was one of concern, diluting my previous optimism. Ocheeva was sitting down, her face just as serious, as soon as our eyes met she began speaking.

"**Ah, Fights-up-close, I've got an important task to request of you. It is quite urgent.**" Her words didn't hint at the slightest amusement or optimism I was used to with family conversations. They even felt a bit forced, which irritated me slightly. It certainly made me worry "**Listen, I understand you've been concerned about Goes-in-heavy. Well, Learns-fast dropped by the sanctuary today. We may have found him, but it does not look good. The Argonian Royal Court sent 3 agents to Bogwater who have not reported back.**" The conversation was becoming more and more uncomfortable. Out of the corner of my eyes, I thought I saw Tienaava peering at me, but I wasn't sure, and didn't bother to look. What did he think of all this? The conversation had a very grim ambience, and I had to wonder if he knew something I didn't. "**I gave you and Cleaver this task because you two obviously know him better than any other family members, and should be able to identify him immediately.**"

I could tell this mission would have consequences we'd never forget, however it turned out.

"**What do _you _think happened to him? I crossed through those swamps on my way to Leyawiin. It didn't seem dangerous.**" Learning his whereabouts was encouraging, and my mind was sharp and enthusiastic to start an investigation, but Ocheeva's grim tone was unsettling.

"**Sister,**" She said in a tone like she was talking to a child, which irritated me slightly "**we believe he himself may very well be the threat. Please, do be careful. If this is true, he must be killed without question.**" Killed. The words sounded harsher than ever, and the way she was talking to me felt so...distanced. She probably had to be, considering what she thought she was ordering me to do. But did she know something I didn't? It didn't sound like much evidence of treachery, especially considering who I knew **"Scar-tail"** to be.

"**You really think...**" I began, intending Ocheeva to cut me off before I could say the painful words.

"**That's what you two need to find out. But please, Fights-up-close, realize how important this is**." She replied. Reality seemed to shift somehow as I thought about what I was hearing. No matter what had happened, I knew my life would never be the same again.

"**I suggest you arm yourselves well.**" Ocheeva added. Just like another mission, but this time it had serious implications, ones I couldn't escape. It gave it a new sense of purpose.

This time, out of the corner of my eye, I could clearly see Tienaava turn towards me, debunking my suspicion he'd been examining me all along. He added "**This is an Argonian matter, and will have no bearing on our standing within the Dark Brotherhood.**" _Argonian matter? Does this seem right? I thought Ocheeva said it effected both of us._ Before I could check my own logic, my thoughts were whisked away, however, and replaced by more important ones; What kind of danger could lie in Bogwater? Either way, I decided to ask my previous question.

"**No bearing on my standing in the Dark Brotherhood?**" I asked. I wasn't quite sure if I got my questions across right.

"**I'm sorry, I've kept you two long enough. Please, get any extra equipment you need, and do hurry.**" She responded. Tienaava immediately began walking off, and I closely followed, trying to decide whether to shun the nagging urge to stay and prod more or not. Then I realized what her words implied. Get more equipment: time to see M'raaj-Dar again. It would be interesting to see how this would play out with him outnumbered two to one, but there was something I was nervous, even a bit humiliated about. The twins seemed to think **Goes-in-heavy **was a traitor, and no doubt M'raaj-Dar would love every bit of that. Still, everything felt different now, even the rivalry with M'raaj-Dar. Not that I felt it didn't matter, but I felt a broader sense of duty now.

Either way, Tienaava was walking ahead of me, so he'd have to think of how to initiate the conversation, much to my relief. He seemed to be heading confidently in the direction of the Living Quarters. I wondered what he thought of all this; he'd had far longer to reflect on it than I. I had been thrown into such a dramatic situation.

After opening the doors, my fellow Shadowscale, keeping a straight stride and look, headed towards the table. I eagerly awaited his first words. "Alright, M'raaj-Dar, its time to sell us something." He demanded, his orders without a hint of normal cheer, of course. I made a point of coming into the Khajiit's field of view as well, standing my ground face to face with my enemy like a soldier.

"Two of you? Well this is an unpleasant surprise." He said as he leaned down from the table and lifted the bag of supplies, then making a point of forcing us to sort it out. Tienaava started sorting through the bag while I hovered over his shoulder, though it was a way of showing support more than helping find supplies. I watched him shuffle through all the enticing goodies, it was a shame they all had to be priced so highly and sold to me by someone like M'raaj-Dar. Now I was starting to see Ocheeva's decision to put him in charge of sales in a less approving light. It seemed vaguely selfish since we had to deal with him. Tienavaa turned to me after a bit more shuffling.

"If this mission indeed involves rescue, it would be wise to keep some healing potions in storage." Tienaava said. I enjoyed hearing such a quick tactical conclusion from an ally.

"A rescue, eh? What's wrong?" M'raaj-Dar said, no doubt savoring our dilemma "Can the agents of Argonia not watch their own back?" I filled with anger not only at the jab, but the fact M'raaj-Dar, though I hated to acknowledge it, he had been right on target. Fortunately, Tienaava was more resilient, and I was glad to have him by my side when dealing with the mage, it made it so much easier.

"We were given this contract because a Shadowscale is twice the assassin you are. If you were to handle the situation, it would be doomed to failure." Tienaava said, toneless and matter-of-factly. I was pleased to see someone else bite back at M'raaj-Dar, rather than being infuriatingly pacifist about it, and already felt like thanking Tienaava. Even if it wasn't anything really clever he said, having an advantage in numbers really seemed to boost my morale.

"A rescue, none the less...some assassins you must be." M'raaj-Dar said. I felt it was my duty to deliver the next blow.

"I'm just glad were not rescuing you." I said, though the words had been generated by disorganized impulse that hadn't fully translated into the right words. He probably didn't get exactly what I was trying to imply. Seeing how flat the insult fell, Tienaava quickly went back to focusing on the shopping aspect of our meeting. Though I was grateful, it made it slightly more embarrassing.

"Three healing potions." Tienaava said, holding up three little bottles filled with a maroon liquid "Name your price."

"Fifty for each!" He said, and the significance of the price was not lost to me. Tienaava gave me a look to see what I thought of it. I shrugged out of impulse. That sounded a bit over-priced even for healing potion, but chances are we wouldn't do any better. Tienaava sighed, and began taking the coins from his pocket. Amazing generosity to pay for all three potions. Unlike M'raaj-Dar, Tienaava was, of course, being quite a gentleman, increasing my soldier-like mentality of both comradery and hatred.

He payed M'raaj-Dar, then handed me a bottle and gestured me to come along, a far off look in his eyes. Anger was still simmering inside me, keeping me in the conversation as we walked towards the exit, both in normal citizen's clothing. An odd sight. Tienaava seemed to look so different with his hood off.

Of course, I had not forgotten where we were going, and why were going there. There was a greater feeling of purpose to this, but it was hard to take in with everything that had also transpired all at once. I was being rushed through such an extra-ordinary development, without time to take a step back and decide how I felt about the situation.


	14. At full speed, thoughtless

Mid Year 13, 4E1

"Thought it would be a while before I had to walk this path again," I said to Tienaava as we walked, seeing as it had been a relatively long time since one of us threw a topic out for conversation. My mind rushed back to analyze the words instantly after I spoke them. Since we'd be stuck together for quite some time, I kept wondering what impression I was making on him.

"You'd be surprised the places our jobs take us." He replied.

I got the feeling the Yellow Road wasn't well traveled; the Inns were few and far between, and the same went for settlements. In fact, any piece of civillization was hard to find here. The terrian was getting gradually less hilly, a good thing because it meant no more strenuous climbs, but it was raining now. Eitherway, our determination was such that rain, mud, and even highwaymen barely seemed to phase us. Tienaava said there was an Inn nearby, and I'd, none the less, be glad to put an end to this constant walking, especially because there hadn't been anything to do but bounce conversational topics off eachother.

We came across a hill, what I thought I could safely conclude would be our last one, which seemed to attract Tienaava's eyes. Good, that seemed to indicate something promising.

"This way." He said, turning towards the hill. It seemed like an odd place to walk to get to an Inn, as it seemed to lead to nothing but more lush and mysterious wilderness. Still, he started walking up the steep hill. There was no visible path, but I trusted him. I, as usual, followed behind. I almost wished I could have been more useful in all of this. The hill was muddy, meaning getting traction was difficult and made walking up it all the harder. I startled myself by almost slipping half-way up, but thankfully made it to the top without any injuries.

Now at the top of the hill, I could see an Inn in the distance. Like a hidden treasure, it seemed to have been concealed by the wilderness and Cyrodiil's bizarre terrain. Unlike a hidden treasure, I had to wonder what the owner was thinking by putting it there. Still, it must have been somewhat known, otherwise Tienaava wouldn't be leading me there. Tienaava began walking down the other side of the hill, descending gradually down a vaguely visible wooden path.

I got an odd feeling of adventure as the hidden path became more and more revealing. It was like the path had been the leftover of an ancient ruin, like nature was trying to take it back, but clearly the Inn was still in business even though it was hard to see through the thick and mysterious woods. It seemed almost dreamy; a rainy evening, journeying such a long way to find out what happened to a friend. It seemed, in the slightest bit...fun, I guess, but that was because I'd still not fully come to terms with the reality of it. It was just like reading a book right now. I didn't really know what I should feel. Was this a time for hope, because we had an idea of where the missing Shadowscale was located, or a time for despair because it was evident he could be in great danger? I guess I couldn't say I had no strong feelings eitherway; I did, but they pretty much cancelled eachother out.

How big was the area of Bogwater we had to search? What would **Goes-in-heavy** be like after he was found? That, of course, depended on what made us lose him in the first place, which was the biggest question of all.

As we began our descent down the muddy hill to the bridge, I controlled each step carefully, trying to keep my feet firmly in the ground when they weren't moving to avoid falling forward; another thing I hated about hills. The mud made it far worse. Still, the path continued to be more and more appearant, until we eventually arrived at the shores of Silverfish river. The sand was hardly better for traction, making those particular steps tougher, but the path was now fully visible. There was a bridge to the other side of the river.

The bridge was rickety, and had a tendency to sway, but with the heavy rain already pouring on us, it wouldn't mean much if the bridge were to crack under our feet. I had plenty of experience swimming, and we couldn't get much wetter.

The Inn itself was surrounded by a stone wall, and actually looked rather nice when we were so close. At least, the outside did, as the plants growing our it made it like a very idyllic place.

**Cleaver** held the door opened as I went in, then tightly closed it behind us. The sound of the rain was now drastically muffled, and the Inn seemed to carry an aura of comfort. The fire crackled and gave off a nice warmth. All very pleasant.

Someone who appeared to be a mage was drinking heavily at one of the tables, while a Legion soldier was eating some meat at the bar. The smells reawoke my hunger. There were two free seats. Unfortunatly, I'd be sitting next to the Legionary, which always made me feel uncomfortable and nervous even when I couldn't think of anything to worry about. Whatever the case my hunger took much higher priority.

I sat down between Tienaava and the soldier. The stool was hard and didn't mold well with my body, but I had other concerns; hunger.

"I'm not saying Colovians are dumb. Some are just hard-headed." The hostess said to the Legion soldier, obviously continuing a conversation we hadn't heard the beginning of.

The soldier laughed "I hear ya!" He replied. I was annoyed just by his presence, given that, through my work with the Dark brotherhood, I'd seen what a bunch of fakes they tended to be. They did half as much for justice, yet were twice as pompous about it as any member of the Dark brotherhood I'd ever seen. The hostess, in a seemingly less friendly manner, dropped a menu infront of me and **Cleaver**, or, as I'd need to get used to calling him in public, **Climbs-Rocks**.

However, another question was coming into my mind. How would I feel about all this in the morning? How would this issue feel when my thoughts had time to fall into place. I was so immersed in my world of thought, I almost forgot my manners; as soon as I realized I politely put my tail next to my right leg.

I looked down at the menu. It felt great to be indoors, with the crackling fire and sound of rain beating down on the roof. My stomach was making all manner of bubbily noises as I looked at the menu. My hunger made me feel awake, but few productive thoughts were going through my head

I decided to just order a salad, since that would take no time to cook. Right now, I was there to get filled up. Taste was a secondary priority. I didn't even pay attention to what Tienaava ordered, I just watched the hostess make our meals, hoping mine would come first. I was somewhat spacey as I waited, no longer looking for a new conversational topic for Tienaava and me to examine and express our thoughts on. Infact, it was like I wasn't even concious until my meal came as the soldier and hostess continued their conversation.

When it was ready and brought to me, I dug in without hesitation. I ate it at full speed, thoughtless as animal. I didn't really take time to think about the meal. I had the feeling I was going through the day almost the same way. I knew so much was transpiring, and I had a feeling I would regret not taking time to step back and think about it in the morning, because by then I'd be deeper in this "**Scar-tail**" issue than I was prepared to be. Still, I couldn't help it. It was so unexpected, and there was so much to take in all at once, that I didn't know where to start.

Tienaava and I both ate in silence, making me almost forget he was there. By the time I was finished, the Legion soldier had gotten up and left. I was ready for something extra by the time I finished my meal. The salad had done wonders for my hunger, but I knew I'd feel more content to have a bit more food. I couldn't say I felt anymore accute, but certainly more comfortable.

The "extra" I decided on was a small bowl of black berries. As she poured the berries into a bowl, I remembered the coldness coating my skin. Obviously I was still wet from the rain. I half said, half-mummbled to Tienaava "I think I'll go sit by the fire." I picked up my bowl of black berries and headed over to one of the empty chairs which was coated in the fire's glow and warmth.

I watched the fire with a spacey fascination as I put black berries in my mouth and chewed them almost mechanically, watching the fire slowly devour the log and up in an infinitely light, graceful manner. It felt almost like a product of my imagination. Being so exhausted, my mind felt like it was drifting out of conciousness as I watched. My thoughts, the falling of the rain onto the roof, and the fire all seemed to begin to meld inseperably. Tienaava, I presumed, was still eating what he'd ordered. He needed to dry as much as I did, though.

It had been an amazing 3 weeks. It had felt as long as 3 months. So much satisfaction, so much stress, so much adventure, so much of everything that made my time in Cyrodiil so memorable. But, I wondered, had I really taken it in as much as I should have?

I got up after finishing the black berries to give the bowl back to the hostess. Tienaava was eating the last bit of his meal while I did so, and pushed his plate away before I even turned back to the fire.

"The two of us would like to stay for the night," He said to the hostess. I had a feeling he'd purposely spoken before I could get out of earshot "Could you accomodate?"

"Why yes, I have two beds upstairs. They're not the nicest beds in Cyrodiil, but they're cheap. 20 gold and they're yours for the night." Hearing the hostess herself depreciate her beds made me feel slightly apprehensive about sleeping in them, but at least the fact that there were two of them allowed me to dodge a rather awkward situation.

Tienaava looked up at me, and I gave an approving nod. It was probably my turn to pay, seeing as he payed for the healing potions, and I immediatly reached into my pocket, pulling out exactly the cost of the beds. I handed it to the hostess. I'd probably be about ready to go to sleep once I'd dried off completely. I went back to sitting by the fire. Not long after, I heard Tienaava lift up his stool to join me.

I stared at the fire with a seemingly mindless but endless amusement, watching little splinters of wood burn and fall. At a micro-level, the destruction felt so...epic. But I knew my attention shouldn't have been on such petty things. I'd felt such a range of emotions today, and I felt somehow disoriented. I knew I needed to be more serious about this, but how? Rescuing "**Scar-tail**" wouldn't be as casual an affair as Claudius Arcadia, but what was I supposed to feel? I knew this assignment might be the greatest test of loyalty and friendship, maybe even dedication, I had yet to face, but that meant I had nothing to compare it to.

But right now, my eye-lids felt heavy as led. I wanted to dry off before going to bed, though that was it as far as activities for the rest of the day.

So little happened as I sat by the fire that it was hard to estimate how much time had passed, but, at some point, for no particular reason, I decided I was sufficently dry and told **Cleaver** I was heading off to bed purely on willpower. I then remember the slight apprehension I had for the beds upstairs. It was time to see what these beds looked like.

I walked up the steps, around the chimney. The floor creaked as I did. The Inn had a rustic feel, more so than Witsetutsi's, and it gave it an adventurous charm. I hoped the beds would, at the very least, be clean. Nothing would be too uncomfortable to fall asleep in at this time, as I was enveloped in a hearty exhaustion, but I wasn't sure I could deal with bed bugs or anything of _that_ sort.

The second floor of the Inn was odd. It seemed to have a second, significantly smaller area for dining. The layout to the Inn looked a bit...off. I opened a door to reveal the next set of steps, which led to the top floor, where the beds were.

The beds seemed to be located in an attic of sorts, resting on loosely layed wooden boards, in a fashion that didn't seem at all organized. It seemed like this whole place was once a house, made into an Inn very recently.

I pinched the covers, lifting them like they were diseased, just to be sure. The bed didn't look outrageously comfortable, which was actually a _good_ sign, as it seemed to be what justified the price. In other words, the bed seemed clean. I ran my hand across the mattress just incase, but didn't feel any anomalies.

I didn't bother to make any preparations, I simply put myself under the covers and sunk into the bed. There was a moment of bliss as I cuddled up with the covers, even though they weren't very soft. I closed my eyes, entering my own little Void; peace and darkness with only a few subtle colors moving around in a patternless way. One question went through my mind before falling into the embrace of darkness, however. Would I wake up miraculously enlightened, knowing how I should feel about **Goes-in-heavy's** whereabouts, maybe even an idea of what most likely happened to him, or would my thoughts feel just as unsorted in the morning?


	15. Back to Blackwood

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 14, 4E1

With our plan worked out and our meals finished, we were finally sure what our next step was. I had no worries about the plan; it had come to us clearly and logically.

However, the plan wasn't what was rushing through my head; it was how the end result would effect us. _If **Goes-in-heavy** is actually dead, then what? Mourning? How much will life continue as normal? And if he is rescued, how will that change how we see each other? What will life in the Dark Brotherhood be like if he joins us at Cheydinhal? _There was plenty of room for hope and worry.

This was serious business, of course, but I was lucky to find out I was tough. I was eager to do what was necessary to find out the truth about what had happened to him, yet managed to be patient while we ate and walked.

The next step was clear: Buy the extra gear. This wasn't the time for a dagger; I needed a bigger weapon, the kind **Goes-in-heavy **got this name for preferring (now that I'd met Gogron, his name hardly seemed fitting anymore, but **Goes-in-heavy** still preferred heavier weaponry than I did).

We exited the Inn and began walking down Leyawiin's side-walk. _Shadowscale business in Cyrodiil. I thought I saw the last of that a while ago. _

We were headed towards the streets because across the streets was "The Dividing Line". Again, I couldn't imagine how that related to weapons or armor, but the picture under the sign meant it clearly did.

We stepped down from the side-walk and walked across the street. I continued to think about our search of Blackwood.

We entered the shop. It was fairly bare room made completely of stone, with stores of weapons in boxes, barrels, or on tables. It would be the last piece of shelter and civilization we'd see until we found **Goes-in-heavy**. An Argonian with a smith's apron on was standing behind a wooden table, on which was a large assortment of weapons. I was somewhat excited to get my hands on one, but was considerably less excited to barter; I didn't have much money. Tienaava already had a shortsword, his standard weapon, but obviously we'd _both_ need to defend ourselves against the potential threat that could lie in the swamp.

I got the idea that I was permitted to try out the weapons to get a feel for them. I picked up one of the swords from the table, an iron one since it was the only kind I could afford.

I liked the feeling of heavy, destructive power in my hand, imagining how I could use such a powerful tool in combat. I knew from experience how much a sword could outmatch a dagger in combat (of course, I also knew from experience that it was almost always better to avoid combat). I carefully swung it around, away from everyone else of course, enjoying its graceful and deadly movements, lightly imagining nearby foes. I felt satisfied enough with the feel of the sword.

**Cleaver** was waiting patiently. I turned to the shop-owner to make my offer. I had seventy septims available, and I was guessing that was about the price of the weapon. Still, I wanted to start my bidding a bit lower.

"Fifty for this? How about that?" I said to the shop owner, holding up the sword.

"Make it sixty and you've got a deal." He said. I assumed that was a good enough deal, and reached into my pocket, feeling the ridges of various coins, trying to take out six 10-septim coins.

I poured the coins into his cupped hands.

Despite the fact that I liked the sword the purchase was followed by a brief pang of guilt knowing how much I'd set back my earnings; Not that I would have done anything differently even if I could go back, I had to soldier through this, but it was amazing how easily my earnings (whether from dead highwaymen, or Dark Brotherhood contracts) could get set-back when I had to pay for my own equipment. I didn't even bother to purchase a sheath, since I needed enough money for the journey back. I held the sword by my side, trying to look as unthreatening as possible as we exited the shop.

Though I liked the feeling of a weapon in my hand, I knew I was approaching closer and closer to a moment that would change my life like never before. I was being called upon to play hero for one of my fellows. I had always wondered if it would truly happen, and I would become like the subjects of so many stories.

Currently, we were heading towards the city gates.

This place had, over time, amassed some sentimental significance. My original astonishment with Cyrodiil came back to me. I wished to hold onto that first-time-charm. I looked at the various stone structures as we walked, trying to remind myself of how amazing it really was, trying to soak up the ambience, reminding myself that it was all tangible, not a picture or a dream. That was a feeling I didn't want to forget. If there was one good thing about this crisis, it was that it was bringing back these memories of fascination.

We exited the city and I stared into Blackwood. It had its own mysterious beauty in the early evening sun, though it was about to become something much different than what I had known it as on my journey over here from Argonia.

The swamps were vast and a difficult enviroment to search for something in; that made our job all the harder, but **Cleaver** seemed confident that he knew how to search the area and find **Goes-in-heavy** quickly. I figured I should trust him. After all, from what his sister told me, he was used to working with a partner, so he would be more of an authority as far as predicting how this assignment would go than I would be. It almost felt like I had gotten to know both of them better over these two days better than I had in all our time as Shadowscales.


	16. For the Argonian Royal Court

A/N: I purposely changed Scar-tail's personality. The way he was presented in the game didn't really seem to work for this story. Oh yeah, and I forgot to date this chapter, so I went back edited it.

Mid Year 14, 4E1

(Learns-fast)

* * *

Tension and anger were building inside of me gradually as I was embarking on my return to Cheydinhal. Lachance's words were coming back to me, with the instant of offense that followed them also being recalled. As I was getting closer, the memories and expectation became more and more real. Every step my horse took brought me closer to taking matters into my own hands. 

I had to keep my heart and ego hard for this, and my mind sharp. I needed to be sure nothing could taint my dedication or judgement. Ideally, I'd never want Lachance to even know I was there, but if he did, I wanted more than anything to inspire a fear in him, restoring the sense of dominance of the Argonian Royal Court in their alliance with the Dark brotherhood.

I didn't want to let go of the anger, even when Cheydinhal was still such a distance away. I had gained access to the battlefield, saying I was heading to Cheydinhal to make sure the **"Goes-in-heavy** **situation**" didn't spin out of control (which was the truth, but not the whole truth), and already appointed a replacement, but had not yet made a plan of attack. And no plan of attack seemed to form in my head.

My thoughts just kept cycling through Lachance's words. I could feel my heart rate increase as I recalled the situation, time passing while my thoughts stayed the same as my horse trotted on. Maybe I needed to be patient, maybe I needed to see the situation before I started to plan, but I wasn't sure.

I had brought another Shadowscale, a 16 year old boy named **Surveys-from-above, **but I was reluctant to let him in on the grand scheme of my plan, just like **Stabber**. He would be my tool, not a person I could confide in or trust.

I knew, if I couldn't think of a better plan, I could at least spy on Lucien, wait for a weakness, and attack when the time was right.

(Fights up close)

* * *

I'd noticed how accustomed to Cyrodiillic terrain I'd gotten. I was no longer used to leafy plants hitting my legs, or soggy terrain below my feet. It sunk with each step, and was an irregular mix of plant parts and dirt, unlike that of most of Cyrodiil. As before, my pants and tail seemed to be mysteriously accumulating mud, but I had to simply think of them as extensions of me, rather than part me, to proceed forward. I was constantly having to do physical feats to dodge the plant life, and didn't even bother to do anything about the bugs. 

Tienaava's plan was to search the area methodically. We were supposed to cover all of Bog Water by moving in an 'S' pattern, but we weren't even a quarter done with our searching. Though it was stress relieving to know exactly how to search for him, I wasn't looking forward to walking the distance we just had at least 7 times over. Then again, we were unlikely to get even half of it done before we went to bed. I just had to keep pushing forward in a zombie like state.

It was then that I saw something which broke the pattern of trees and leaves. Another person, a finned guy. It was a relieving sight to see such a face, as I was getting so used to seeing no one else but Tienaava. I knew a split second later it was **Goes-in-heavy**, but his expression was unsettling. Then, he bolted off, as expressionless as a deer bolting from a hunter. My instinct told me to run after him.

I bolted in his direction before he could get out of view, and I could tell by the noise to my left, Tienaava was too. The swampy ground made the motions all the more strenuous as I pushed my legs of the ground with all my might, pushing my capabilities to their limits. Doing my best to push my now aching legs, I presued the slowly shrinking figure. I knew I couldn't run faster than him, but with all the hidden rocks and trees, I just had to hope he'd fall. The mystery was why he was running in the first place. Almost half the chase was spent in the air as I leapt over obstacles. My throat was starting to feel cold and dry as I ran, the wind blowing against me. I continued to viciously fight my own fatigue as I ran, hoping to see his figure hit the ground soon.

His form was becoming less and less recognizable through the leaves, and the noise of Tienaava running behind me had, for some reason, already disappeared. But no matter how strong my will was, I knew I couldn't run any faster. It was beyond my limits.

Then it came. The movement that was "**Scar-tail**" seemed to disappear into the shrubbery at my feet. I knew he'd fallen. I continued to run in my direction, noticing my pounding heart as I gradually slowed, the cool wind turning into an encasing of heat around the covered parts of my body. My breath was very slowly restoring it normal rhythm, as were my footsteps. Now it was time to find out what the chase had been all about.

**Goes-in-heavy** was wiping his face of dirt now, visible cuts mingling with the swamps filth. A nasty fall, and I had no idea what he was trying to avoid. Had he gone mad? Was he up to something nefarious? I hated to think either were true. Either would be an issue I could never put behind me. The contents of his back pack had flown an even farther distance than he had during his fall. His long sword was too far away to grasp, thankfully.

I unsheathed my shortsword, boosting my advantage in the situation hugely. Always a good way to take a control, and always a great way to get someone to listen. He turned to look at me, still wiping dirt from his mouth. Things were in my hands now, so I could relax.

"**I guess you haven't been ordered to kill on sight.**" He said, his tone straight and serious, unlike the usual loose feel of our conversation.

"**Kill on sight?" **I replied.** "Why? The Argonian Royal Court has been _looking _for you.**" I was getting nothing from the conversation so far. It was all still a mystery. His clothing was tattered, some pieces stained crimson, yet he still carried his backpack. His grave and serious manner was contagious.

"**After the others never came back...nevermind. Just listen to me. I know we were supposed to meet in **Leyawiin, **but _please_, listen to me."** He hadn't gotten lost. I didn't know exactly what was going on yet, but I could feel a bitterness start to build up between us already. He had broken our trust. I could feel a sickness starting to form inside me as he continued, knowing I'd never see him the same way again "**There's a lot they haven't told you, because they knew this would happen. That's why they teach you not to ask questions, its not about trust."**

"**Knew what would happen?" **I asked, even though I thought I knew the answer. For a change, our meeting was becoming one of hurt, anger, and sadness.

"**They knew we wouldn't go a long. Why else do you think they've been keeping us in the dark? It took me a few days out of the sanctuary to realize it, but I did."** He had betrayed Argonia. All the sudden I had a horrible sinking feeling. I knew I'd never look at _anything_ the same way again.

"**You...realized what? You're afraid, now?"** I knew this had been the end of our trust, friendship, and something deeper. He may have been talking, but he was already dead to me. I could say goodbye to 13 years of understanding and peace within the family. I only had the Dark brotherhood to trust now. From what I gathered, he had proven to be one of the others, the cowards.

"**No!" **He said, almost defensively. His voice cracked slightly. He seemed to be just as troubled as I was "**We never protect anyone as Shadowscales, we..." **The words were infuriatingly baseless. I hated to hate him now, but I couldn't help it.

"**Then why did our parents present us to the Argonian Royal Court!? Huh!? The whole country needs us! The tribals can't take care of themselves, and they know it, and _you_ know it!"** I said, my voice showing similar signs of pain. I knew I was holding back tears due to the sudden, unexpected emotion I was experiencing. Passion was building inside me, confident in my own words, infuriated and saddened that such basic truth wasn't enough to keep **Goes-in-heavy** in our ranks. I had been deceived by him for so long. I thought he was trustworthy.

"**No. We weren't presented. They have to kill to get their recruits. Kill to get us. They take every Shadow they can get their hands on. Its just so few."** His voice sounded weak and feeble like mine, but it was a mask for his insidious lies. The horrible accusations made my blood boil.

"**Then why are their Shadows living in Gideon? Shadows who don't work with us?"** I retorted, arguing mercilessly, eager to hear his response, or lack there of. I was thoroughly in combat mode, at least on a verbal level.

"**They won't take anyone in who's old enough to remember the outside world. They don't want us to remember. They don't want us to know anything but their version of the truth." **I was now shaking, adrenaline filling every fiber of my body. I thought I'd have come here to rescue him, take in a new family member at the sanctuary, but it was nothing like that. And his argument left me at a loss for any kind of response. It couldn't have been true though, if it was that simple, I would have realized it.

"**They _have_ let us see the outside world, Goes-in-heavy! You would have seen it just the same if you'd gone to the **Cheydinhal** sanctuary!" **Hating every word of this argument yet refusing to even consider letting him win it, hating the fact that he kept pushing the issue, making me feel so helpless to turn him back. My urge to kill him was growing stronger. He seemed to realize this, and slowly lifted himself from the ground, standing up straight, but making no sign of intention to escape or grab his sword. That was good move by him, as anything was ready to set me off.

"**That's because they don't care anymore. You're not even fighting for the same people there! We're a _currency_ to them, that's it."** It all seemed so vague, I didn't know what to make of the words. I just couldn't assign them any solid meaning in my mind. I couldn't tell if he was making sense. I could feel an aching lump in my throat though. So much of my spirit for my job was getting crushed, not by his words, but by his betrayal. I had believed I'd only be among loyal, untainted people when I was in the sanctuaries, and I was wrong. I just stared silently. "**Think of all they've tasked you with. Was it driven by anything but greed? If not, what else? The Dark brotherhood serves anyone who pays, and the Argonian Royal Court? The Argonian Royal Court serves no one but themselves." **That last, harsh line stuck with me. I was deeply offended. I did as he dared, and thought back to my assignments recently, the Dark brotherhood ones. I had killed an amoral pirate Captain, an old Elf in a very mysterious manner, and a prisoner who had plans to make his name known once he got out of prison. Though I had to admit, I couldn't feel anything for my second assignment, not knowing what it was about, the first and third clearly had good motivations. And Argonia, my last 3 assignments were the assassination of Varo Taradius, the destruction of the Gideon over-look post, and spying on the Countess of Leyawiin; they were all Imperial targets, but that had just been another part of "**easing into Cyrodiillic culture**". I had known little about all those assignments, true, but I couldn't see any selfishness in them. He was either refusing to listen to me, or trying to play mind games with me, saying things even he knew weren't true, yet seemed impossible to argue against. Either way, it hurt, confused, and angered me.

"**So you came here just to hide?" **I said, eager to prove the falseness and cowardice of those who went against us. But right now, I wasn't sure if I should feel more or less proud to be a Shadowscale, seeing as someone who I trusted for years had wimped out on me and was trying to make excuses.

"**As long as they can't use me for their agendas, I'm helping someone. That, I know. The Dark brotherhood has eyes everywhere, and I can't accomplish anything alone."** Oddly, he made some sense. But he was still a traitor, and it made me sick to find out this was how our reunion in Cyrodiil would begin. Maybe even end.

Then I heard rustling in towards my left side. I could see Tienaava emerging from the bushes. I looked back at **Goes-in-heavy. **He looked like he was ready to run. In a moment of merciless impulse, I swung my sword at his back before he could get a way. It made a clean cut.

His spine severed, he flopped to the ground as lifeless and oblivious to his own death as so many other targets. Once a great friend and courageous servant to Argonia, then a deserter and traitor, now degraded to a lifeless, thoughtless, feelingless mass of flesh. His soul released itself so quickly it was as if it was never even there. He was gone. Permanently. He died as a traitor. I was a prisoner to these circumstances.

I looked down at the lifeless body, entranced. Near it lay some of the contents which had fallen out of his back-pack during his fall. Two books: The Eastern Provinces Impartially Considered, The Brothers of Darkness, and Sacred Witness: A True History of the Night Mother. I noticed the third item, the iron longsword was blood stained. He had killed them. All vile pieces of corruption that had devoured him, and needed to be destroyed.

My life may as well have started a new; everything from my past was gone now. I suddenly felt very cold. I dreaded the moment that all which had happened would truly start to sink in.


	17. Questions unanswered

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since I released the final chapter of this story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 16, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**):Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

We were in the sanctuary once again, but its beauty was tainted somehow. The nobility I used to see in the uniforms of the Brotherhood was just slightly less. The traitor's words may have sunk in somewhat; I was starting to see the sanctuary from a different...angle. For the first time, it actually seemed possible to imagine them as an enemy. I saw something different in them now, a potential threat. The sense of comradery and welcomeness had waned, and it all seemed to give off a...cold meanness now. But was it because of **Goes-in-heavy's** treachery (which made all others suspect to the same act), or his reasons for treachery, which made me wonder about the sincerity of our goals? I couldn't quite say. 

His death was weighing on me so heavily it suppressed most other thoughts. I noticed it had been so long since I felt true pain. I'd taken on challenges before, but this was different. It wasn't a challenge I was putting myself through to prove something only to myself, something which the importance of only existed in my head. His death wasn't something I could escape or ignore.

My time in the Dark Brotherhood had now been so horribly marred with the devastating events that had just occurred I doubted I'd ever get a chance to feel it as I should have. I guessed I'd never know for sure, though, as I'd forgotten what I'd truly expected.

If I was going to feel pain, I wished at least that I could feel anger; it could be converted into pleasure through revenge. This was sadness, and sadness was always hopeless.

We made it to **Stabber's **office, even as I was lost in painful thought. **Cleaver** was intent on announcing what had happened:

"**Goes-in-heavy was indeed a traitor, but Fights-up-close has slain him**." He said heartily, images of his last moments flashing before my eyes. Tienaava's words were free of compassion which, for the first time, disgusted me, and saddened me even further. I felt lonely now. I hated having him attribute the deed to me, but it was true.

"**A traitor was in our ranks...that is most certainly disturbing.**" She said, her voice slightly dragged and mellowed in shock. But her eyes were on the floor only briefly before she briskly snapped out of it. "**Well, thanks to you the traitor now lies with the worms of Bog Water!** **We are all forever indebted to you two**!" She said it in an almost celebratory manner, despite the grimness of the event. "**Fights-up-close, I think its time for an advancement. The two of us will work more closely. You will no longer receive contracts from **Vincenti Valteri**. Now go, get some rest. Sithis knows you've earned it. I will alert you when I have any contracts available for you.**"

That was her only reaction? I had been surprised by just how cold **Cleaver **had been on our way back. Now his sister felt nearly nothing for a lost Shadowscale too? This wasn't the same **Stabber** I'd known back in Gideon.

With a shadow of bitterness now cast over my world, getting some rest was the only thing that appealed to me now. Maybe my dreams were the only place I could find refuge. Doing anything else just served as a reminder that hope had been crushed. My heart had been set on sharing my Dark Brotherhood career with "Scar-tail's" friendly company; I thought everything else had just been diversion up until that point. I was wrong. Now I could only long for my days back in Argonia, despite all the excitement I'd built up for my career in the Dark Brotherhood.

Back in Argonia there were the memories of deep, humorous, thought-provoking conversations, of embracing each other's accomplishments like those of our own, and embracing our failures with a sense of humor. Even though such was still possible here, I didn't feel like I could ever indulge in the sense of comradery again. The marsh brother I was closest to was dead, and **Stabber** and **Cleaver** had...changed somehow.

"Ah, **Fights-" **Vincenti's words sent a jolt through my body. I had not heard him come up behind me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

I nodded.

"Before you go, I intend to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you. Shall I use my dark powers and turn you into a vampire?"

I had completely forgotten about that. Vincenti reminded me, unfortunately, that there was still an outside world I'd still have to make decisions in, even with so much misfortune weighing down on me.

"Tell me a bit about it." I said, but even my own voice served only to further remind me of the reality I was trapped in, the blunt truth that was filling me with deep sadness again.

I knew I couldn't decide about vampirism now, but I wanted to remember whatever he told me so I could analyze it later, whenever that would be.

"Ah, yes, I certainly did not mean to rush your decision." He smiled again. It was irritating now, though. "The vampiric blood has many benefits to whoever is blessed enough to have it within their bodies. You will become physically stronger, for instance, and your eyes will more easily cope with the night. With each drop of vampiric blood flowing through your body, these effects will be amplified. However, so will vampirism's unfortunate drawbacks. The sun will be increasingly hostile to your skin, and the dark gift will become more apparent to the outside world. You must feed to avoid the full price of these draw backs while reaping its benefits." He paused briefly before continuing "You see, the vampire's blood alone can not sustain your body. You must feed off of others from time to time. During this process, you will exchange your blood with their's, removing some of your vampirism, and passing it to them. If you chose not to make the wound fatal, they will soon become like you. This is what I will do for you if you accept my offer. One drop of vampire's blood in a normal human blood stream will quickly multiply itself. Though the effects would be barely noticeable at first, you will soon find yourself wrapped in vampirism's dark embrace."

"I'll think about it." I responded. I had to eventually, it was a real decision, effecting all the life I'd ever have. Just like killing **Goes-in-heavy**. That memory attacked me again.

"I can understand your trepidation. For it is not everyday one is invited to join the ranks of the undead, eh? If you ever change your mind, fear not. My offer will always be open. Simply return and speak to me about the dark gift, and we can proceed."

The conversation didn't immediately exit my mind. I was fascinated by the warping powers of vampirism, and it certainly would be odd to give him permission to "feed" on me, as well as having his blood in my veins, but I hated having so much on my mind as it was.

I started heading to the Living Quarters without giving Vincenti's offer any more consideration yet. I didn't feel I was capable of much other than replaying **Goes-in-heavy**'s words in my head.

"**Think of all they've tasked you with. Was it driven by anything but greed? If not, what else? The Dark brotherhood serves anyone who pays, and the Argonian Royal Court? The Argonian Royal Court serves no one but themselves.**" Right now, I chose not to believe those words, yet they kept replaying in my head. It served only to remind me of the anger I'd felt at that instant and nothing more, yet I became frustrated with myself when I couldn't recall exact feeling that moment gave me, as if reliving it again would somehow enlighten me.


	18. Return, to peace?

Mid Year 25, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

I laid in bed. I didn't know how long it had been, nor did I care. My urge to start the new day was non-existent. I didn't feel the familiar eagerness to embark on walks through the city of Cheydinhal, to train, to have conversations with family members, or even eat breakfast. I felt nothing but a coating of bitterness and mistrust over everything I did. But in bed I was doing next to nothing, so next to nothing I did could remind me of what had happened. I was happier that way. 

My eyes were closed, so right now everyone must have just thought I was sleeping late. I would occasionally consider getting up, remembering the whimsical atmosphere the sanctuary once brought me, only to have the reality of the situation slap me in the face again. This wasn't some game, something I was doing out of boredom and could escape; **Goes-in-heavy** died a traitor. That would forever taint my existence.

I was in my own little world about this issue. I felt uncomfortable telling anyone exactly what happened, despite all the pain and afterthought it was causing me. It had been the main focus of my very being since it happened, but I felt like I couldn't tell them. I told them only that **Goes-in-heavy** was a traitor and tried to escape. Maybe it was because I was afraid another family member might turn on us, or that they may suspect me to be likely of treachery now that I'd spoken to "**Scar-tail**". I was becoming more and more secluded, because I was less and less sure there was anyone I could trust. I had seen how the concept of faith had betrayed me. Now I desired a new image for myself. I would no longer want to think of myself as a proud and loyal splinter cell, but a sharp and ever-aware cynic. Be proud not for the people I worked with, but for the ability to watch my own back. I'd have to become harder, and colder than I was before. I'd have to treat every family member with caution, no longer with faith. I'd have to step back and look at things logically now. But would logic help at all? Even when I took time to examine the logic of the situation, I could see no reason for **Goes-in-heavy**'s treachery unless what he said were true.

Then I heard footsteps. I hoped they would get quieter, but no, they were getting louder. I knew my peace was soon to be disturbed. Someone was coming to wake me back to the crushing reality. Whatever they were going to task me with, I knew it would feel like a tedious chore now. I could stand the hunger pains in my stomach that resulted from not getting up to eat breakfast, but coming back to the real world was something I deeply dreaded.

I felt a confirming gentle touch on my shoulder. But no amount of gentleness could have made it anything short of a rude awakening. I stirred a bit, pretending I had been asleep. I heard the sound of another tear drop on my pillow, which always started to seep out when I lied down to close my eyes. It had become as natural as sweating now.

"**Fights-up-close**," Ocheeva said **"I think you should get up now. Besides, I have an important task waiting for you.**"

(Mathieu Bellamont): Outside of Wayrest, High Rock

* * *

I was alone, walking up the hill to the cave over-looking Wayrest, which Mr. Arius used as his personal headquarters. And when I was alone, the painful memories would flood back. In the back of my mind was the most horrible archive of memories anyone had, just waiting to flood out when I wasn't busy. The memory of the killing Blanchard made me shutter at my own stupidity, the memory of leaving my journal in Cheydinhal when I was rushed to High Rock constantly haunted me with fear of its possible discovery, and memories of my Mother so unhesitantly slain filled me with hate. That's all it ever was; tension and anger. 

First the memories just called to me vaguely, taunted me from afar. I knew there was only one way to eliminate them for the time being. I had to take them head on, let them seep into my mind. Confront their wretchedness until I desensitize myself to them so I could have a moment's peace. I cringed as the memories of the fateful night came back to me, tearing me from the inside out. I pushed my teeth against each other, and then, wildly trying to escape the pain, did the only thing I knew I could.

"Oblivion take them oblivion take me I hate them for what they did and its all dead and they aren't so they must be and that's what I'll do because that's what we all do." I said, it made no sense, and I knew it, but I was trying to desperately to escape the waves of pain and bad memories that was forever cursed to wash over me. The memories were choking me once again. "Its okay, Mother, I can do this." I said, trying to deny my own loneliness in a world of people I could never truly befriend. "I've made it this far, Mother." Slowly calming my own nerves.

My breathing had grown heavy through the thoughts. I knew I had to calm down though. I'd already made the mistake of acting on the fuel of anger, taking "advantage" of that moment of fearlessness and confidence that came with my hate to kill Blanchard, and it had cost my mission so dearly. Everything had to be done so carefully. They were so powerful. By the Nine, did I want to fool myself the Dark brotherhood was the true victim, and that they were living in _my_ shadow, but it wasn't true. I almost wanted to believe my hate was unjustified, just so this constant waiting wouldn't seem so disgustingly unjust.

I knew I had to withdraw myself from my thoughts as knocked on the large, half stone which blocked the entrance to Arius's sanctuary. It sunk into the floor shortly after I did. Belarius Arius, Speaker for the High Rock sanctuary, was eager to see me. He should have been, as he went all the way to Cyrodiil to find an assassin of my caliber to serve as his Silencer, despite that this was only my second assignment for him.

He smiled, and stepped aside gesturing me to come in. I forced a smile back, but my anger had been reawaken during my walk over hear, and I was shaking from the urge to beat his vile body to something barely recognizable as human. I'd had this same macabre fantasy before. I wanted to kill him without a weapon; I wanted to put every bit of my own strength and soul into the kill.

I absent-mindedly sat down on one of the chairs provided in the dimly lit cave. I noticed he was holding something, though. A book: Red Crater it was titled.

"Mathieu, are you aware of an authoress by the name of Quill-Weave?" A flash of familiarity accompanied the words, but that was it, so I shook my head 'no'. I couldn't associate the name with anything more than some kind of accomplishment.

"Ah, as I expected. Either way, she must be killed. She interviewed one of our subjects for this book, and has provided an account far too accurate and detailed. This puts us in danger. As my Silencer, I am giving you the assignment to kill her in our name. Your duties will take you to back Cyrodiil. We know she resides in the Port town of Anvil there. Unfortunately, she travels often. Nonetheless, you should start your search there."

Back to Cyrodiil. The site of my first murder, where my ironic mission began. The site where I'd left my original journal after I'd been rushed to High Rock to serve as this man's Silencer. The site of Lucien Lachance himself. The mere name of the place filled me with tension and anger once again. But there, perhaps, I could set these worries right. This was my chance. I saw the potential this trip to Cyrodiil had. So much potential with so little time to plan would make it all the more stressful, but I could do it, Mother.

"As you wish, Speaker." I responded, pushing the passionless words out of my mouth. Ever since the Black Hand began to suspect a traitor, I always thought out my words very carefully before speaking, saying nothing that would give factual reason to generate suspicion or anger.

The Speaker smiled, stood up, and gave me a parting bow. "Sithis is master. All hail our dread." He said matter-of-factly, in simple, irritating Dark piety.

I was getting close. What once seemed too far off and fantastical to be true, but too necessary to be a dream was becoming more of a reality. Soon the real tests, and the real revenge, would begin.

(**Fights-up-close): **Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

Ocheeva watched as I chewed and swallowed my breakfast, swallowing it like medicine instead of food. I was trying desperately to hold back tears: a task which drained me whenever I was awake. This made me extra conscious of my own blinking. I wanted privacy so badly; a place of rest for my exhausted soul, but I knew behaving abnormally would make them ask questions. 

When the last bit was done, Ocheeva began, as she said she would.

"**In the Imperial City there lives a High Elf who must be removed from existence. Finding this person may prove...challenging. Are you interested?**" I really couldn't imagine having much of a choice about the matter. I nodded, fearing signs of my anguish would show in my voice. Now that I'd decided to hide it, I refused to stop; they'd know I was guilty of deceit, and then I would lose some of their trust.

"**I knew you wouldn't be able to resist!**" Ocheeva said, obviously showing no understanding of how I was feeling. "**Your target is a High Elf named Feanlean. He lives somewhere in the Imperial City and fancies long walks. Unfortunately, that's all we know. We don't know which district he calls home, which establishments he frequents, or anything about his schedule.**"

Then something hit me. For a split second, there was hope, and happiness, as I realized something that might help sort my thoughts out about all that was happening. This next contract would be a real chance to prove **Goes-in-heavy's** words wrong if I examined the circumstances carefully enough, maybe find peace for the war of thought in my head. It would help, but it wouldn't bring him back. Nothing would. The reality hit me hard again. I wanted so vehemently to defy it, but such was obviously impossible. At least now I had a reason to be slightly hopeful about something.

"**This contract will require a bit of detective work. I suggest you ask your fellow Brothers and Sisters and see if they can offer any advice. Ah yes, there is one more thing. The Imperial City is also home to an Imperial Legion Captain named** Adamus Philida. **Do you know who that is?"**

I decided to speak, breaking my silence which I'd recently become so accustomed to "**I've heard the name, but that's about it.**" My voice sounded a bit odd even to me, but made me feel more present.

"**Philida has dedicated his life to eradicating the Dark brotherhood, and he becomes rather irate when our duties take us to the Imperial City. When that happens, he tends to make our lives uncomfortable. Let's not give the good Captain any reason to go poking around in our affairs, hmm? If possible, do away with Feanlean somewhere out of the way. A secure location, definitely indoors, with no witnesses. This will make it look like a simple murder. Philida will be none the wiser, and you'll receive a nice bonus**." Ocheeva said in a very casual manner. I couldn't help but feel conflicted about getting out of the sanctuary today, but, in a way, I was glad I had little choice in going back into the outside world. It would mean an odd to that frustrating war of intuition and logic that took place in my head.

A/N: I know these releases are getting shorter and shorter, but this isn't because I want that to become the new trend. The plot just seems to be moving quicker now.


	19. Wondering and Wandering

A/N: Thanks for the reviews.

Nightdragon0, about Ocheeva and Tienaava not really feeling for his death; I basically did this because that's the way they seemed in the game. Just tell me if you think I should make them have a bit more feeling about it, though, because if you do feel this way, I'm glad you brought this up. (Any other reviewers, feel free to comment on the issue). Anyway, that won't matter in these next chapters, as they are just about the assassination of everyone's favorite drug addicted noble. Oh, and apparently I was spelling his name wrong in the previous chapter.

Mid Year 25, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Market District, Imperial City

* * *

"Faenlian, you say?" Thorinir asked. I nodded, and his tone became less upbeat "Yes, I know who he is. A rather distasteful fellow actually. I believe he lives in the Tiber Septim Hotel. That's in the Talos Plaza district. I'd ask around there if I were you."

"Thanks." I responded. It was genuine too, as he didn't seem to like to talk about him. I had become all to familiar with doing things I didn't want to.

The phrase "a rather distasteful fellow" stuck in my head. I was reaching for anything that could make me feel one way or another about this assignment.

I exited Thorinir's shop, once again onto the side walks of the bustling, sun soaked Imperial Market place. There really was no place like the Imperial City, but that "first time magic", its original distinct ambience, had warn off for me. I could only feel it in flashes from time, when certain objects triggered the right memories. For the most part, right now, its grand scale only made it seem overbearingly vast and lonely.

Staying on the sidewalk, I began walking West, where I would cut through the Elven Gardens to get to the Talos Plaza. I did my best to notice what made the city interesting, trying to bring back my previous fascination. The whole city had a very solid feel. Even the armor of the Legionaries looked bulkier, more protective, and more constraining than that of a the typical town guard.

As I approached the door to the Elven Gardens district, I noticed a guard at the entrance. At first I had my typical reaction, and that was a reawakening of angry memories. All the targets I'd assassinated, when the Legion claimed they handled justice for the Empire, was infuriating. Normally any anger threw me into a world of plotting how to make someone's life a bit worse, but it didn't this time; if what **Goes-in-heavy** said was true, I wouldn't see the same pompousness in them I used to.

There were steep steps, for some reason, at the portal between the market and the Elven Gardens. I felt pain in my legs as I pushed myself on each one, still wearing my heavy back-pack. Thankfully, if Faenlian really was staying at the Tiber Septim hotel, that might settle the issue of where I should get a room, so I could finally drop my back-pack off.

On my way down the next set of steps I was careful not to let the downward momentum cause me to fall onto the sidewalks of the Elven Garden district.

The Elven Garden's district was a lot less busy than the Market district. The streets were nearly empty, and I could only see a few people on the side walk. Being more or less alone, I couldn't help but start to think again, on a huge scale, of what my career had become, hating everything that had transpired. First there was M'raaj-Dar, but I'd almost forgotten about him by now, being so wrapped up in everything else. Then there was **Goes-in-heavy**'s long absence, which filled me with worry for him. Then I found out about his treachery, which filled me with something even worse.

The mere fact that I was even considering treachery breeched the security I had once taken for granted in my life and had a brutal emotional effect on me.

My deep train of thought was broken when I began to notice someone walking towards me, heading to the market place, on my part of the sidewalk. I wondered where I should look. I wanted a better place to look than stare directly at her, but I'm sure she couldn't think of any reason for me to stare at the sky, ground, or walls. I looked directly at her, wondering if it would be appropriate to smile as I passed by, and if so, who should be the first, and what distance would be right. She gave me a quick smile as I passed, which I instantly returned. The tension left me once I passed her, but not long after my head began rushing with questions about whether I had done the right thing. Had I always felt that uncomfortable in the presence of others, or was it something I acquired ever since my trust for other people had been more or less crushed?

I went back into my world of thought about the issues at hand. I was away from the watchful eye of Argonia and the Dark brotherhood right now. I could easily change directions to "**Scar-tail"**'s choice of life; I could divert my life completely by simply not returning to Cheydinhal, but then I could never go back. I would throw away everything I'd built myself for right now because of such an unexpected occurrence. Of course, it was hard to imagine such a crushing choice. Why couldn't I stop thinking about this? So far, logic was against **Goes-in-heavy**, but that idea just couldn't seem to stick in my mind. But did I have anything better to concentrate? No, I couldn't think of anything more important. But what about taking it off my mind for my own relaxation? Would that be selfish, or would I deserve that time more than they deserved my thoughts?

"**They** **knew we wouldn't go a long. Why else do you think they've been keeping us in the dark? It took me a few days out of the sanctuary to realize it, but I did.**" His lines would ring in my head again and again.

The more I walked, the more I wondered. When I saw others walking on the other side of the street, I wondered if they ever felt this kind of uncertainty and pain. If they didn't, was it because they lived the lives of cowards? If so, that was a horror so vast and inescapable it well-outdid **Goes-in-heavy**'streachery. But what if there was something I'd forgotten during all this. Some key to put my mind at peace.

I was soon in the Talos Plaza district. Another wave of Legion soldiers marched down the other side of the street in an orderly fashion. It was part of me to analyze their weaknesses. I could imagine how difficult fighting one of the would be, with so much metal covering their bodies. The city surely did a good job of symbolizing the empire: Prosperity through force. Yet even such a well-defended city was nearly powerless against the covert operations of an assassin. Though, for the first time, I wasn't sure if I'd get another chance to demonstrate that fact.

Once I got the center of Talos Plaza, I saw the sign for the Tiber Septim Hotel.

I opened the door to the hotel, and noticed immediately what a high class establishment it was. Everything, from the stone on the ceiling to the clothing of the lady at the desk, was fancy and intricate. I was a bit worried I might seem out of place here, because the only two others there were in equally fancy dress, while mine was pretty much middle-class level. I walked towards the hostess.

"Uh, excuse me," I asked her, trying to sound humble enough for her to realize I felt as out of place as I looked "do you know someone by the name of Faenlian to be staying here?"

"Faenlian? Oh I know him alright! A waste of life that one." Harsh words. They made me feel slightly uncomfortable, but I took mental note of them "He lives here with his sweetheart Atrena. What that poor girl sees in him I'll never know. She pays for their room, their bed, their food, everything! She's quite wealthy I believe." She sighed before continuing. I had to wonder the same thing too, it was slightly irritating to imagine such a 'distasteful' fellow getting so well treated "Faenlian used to have money, used to be quite the gentlemen, but that was before he took a fancy to the...you know. The skooma." She said the word hesitantly as if it were a curse. I couldn't blame her, I did sound rather odd to hear about one of her customers using an illegal drug in such a high-class hotel. That solved a huge portion of the mystery. Once again, I was dealing with pretty serious business. "Now Faenlian's hardly ever here! He's off using skooma or out looking for some I imagine." Then she looked down, as if there was a sudden wave of pity in her "Every night he comes back to be with Atrena, but only for a few hours. I swear, that High Elf is going to end up dead if he keeps living like this." The last sentence sent a mild jolt through my body. For a second I thought she might have some idea of what I was there to do, but it quickly occurred to me this wasn't the case.

So far, logic was on my side, but this Faenlian character was still quite a mystery.

"Thanks." I responded, then realized I'd need an excuse to come back here in order to check for Faenlian periodically "I'd like a room, too."


	20. Stalking

Mid Year 25, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Talos Plaza District, Imperial City

* * *

I continued to lie in bed, listening for noises in the next room. It was nice to have an excuse to relax: to concentrate on something other than **Goes-in-heavy**'s betrayal. I'd managed to convince myself that listening for Faenlian's movements was more important than thinking about **Goes-in-heavy**'s reasons for treachery, and I was grateful for that; I could end the storm in my head. Both my mind and body were in a state of relative rest and comfort, wrapped in the softness and warmth of the covers and my thoughts mostly placid. I learned the value of relaxation through all this hardship.

I admired the beauty of the intricately carved stone as I stared at the ceiling, all the miraculous curves etched in stone right above my head. I'd been in my room for about 3 hours now, and it seemed like Faenlian might be getting up any minute. Either way, I didn't mind an excuse to wait.

Then it came. The sound of a door unlatching and footsteps out into the hall. I immediately got out of bed. A little too fast, infact, as I felt like I almost slipped out of consciousness when I stood up. My vision darkened, my head felt like it was vibrating slightly, and I felt extra drowsy, but this soon passed. I headed to the door. I jammed on my shoes, mindlessly kicking them into the wall in order to get my foot inside.

I managed to catch a brief glimpse of Faenlian, in his tattered and coarse pants and shirt, before he went through the hallway door. Seeing him in such an outfit certainly made me feel better about how I was dressed. He looked like he could have come from the Waterfront. I followed him through the door leading to the stairs, catching the door before it closed.

I knew I had to look casual while I followed him, but I couldn't lose him either. I needed to maintain a distance that didn't look suspicious. It was time to exercise my magickal skills. I purged my mind of all thought, and called for the subtle, oddly colored blobs to start forming on what already seemed to be an undefined mass of color in my thoughtless state. Faenlin's footsteps were getting farther away, though I had little concept of such a thing as I was in my thoughtless, mystic state. The bizarrely colored blob was moving towards the door. Once I heard it open, I'd make my way downstairs.

I could hear the door downstairs open, but a second before I moved down the first step, I heard the door behind me open as well. I jerked slightly, what little sleepiness had built up inside me instantly vanished. I had not heard whoever was behind me until then.

I turned around to see another High Elf, a woman though, wiping tears from her blood-shot eyes. It was sight that instantly turned my spirits down a notch. She sniffled before speaking.

"I'm sorry," she said "I don't mean to get emotional but..." She paused to wipe her eyes again. Obviously whatever was going on with Faenlian was a pretty unsavory situation was.

"I heard you following him and...I feel I can trust you. I just don't know what to do about Faenlian."

She looked down again. I wasn't exactly comfortable in this situation. I had no idea what to think of it or feel, and worse, I wasn't sure what kind of facade to put on.

"All he thinks about, all he cares about, is skooma. He's lost everything. His looks, his money...his self-respect." Any conversation that involved mentioning an illegal drug in a public place was obviously an awkward one, and I was kind of eager to get it over with. She sniffled before continuing "I followed him once, to see where he goes. He walks around the city looks for skooma" she said, her voice sounding mellow, as if in a state of tragic surrender ", then he goes to Lorkmir's house for several hours." She looked down again. My mind was already rushing with all that I had to take in. She looked up finally and put a hand gently on my shoulder, but I was so lost in thought I nearly jumped. "Thank you for listening...you're a good friend. I just hope Faenlian can clean himself up, or that awful skooma will be the death of him."

She went back into the hall way, but the conversation didn't leave me nearly as quickly as she did. It had already planted a powerful emotional seed. I remained on top of the steps, lost in thought. I already noticed I was quivering slightly. The irony that she mistook my stalking of Faenlian for curiosity regarding his problem, the pity I had to feel, and the memories of what I was here to figure out all weighed so heavily on me I could feel its significance, in an odd way, on a guttural level. I, surprisingly enough, already found myself tempted to share her tears. Already a lump in my throat was getting sharper by the minute, but I decided against it.

Just when I felt I could handle it all, something else was put on my shoulders. I felt a charge to do something, but what exactly? That was the hard decision.


	21. Rekindled faith

Mid Year 25, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Elven Gardens District, Imperial City

* * *

Since I was detecting no life inside Lorkmir's house, I knew what the next step was, but I didn't like it. It was time to go in and investigate that house.

I looked over my shoulder, though even that decision worried me, as I knew I would look somewhat suspicious if someone saw me acting so jittery infront of the locked door. Thankfully, I didn't see anyone, but even at this hour it seemed plausible I could get spotted by a guard in a big city like this, and I knew it was too early to use my Shadow power.

I could feel every system of my body turn to full speed as I shuffled through my pocket to find the lock-pick. I stuck the pick in the lock and positioned my body in the way best to cover up what I was doing from potential onlookers.

I rattled the tiny mechanisms of the lock. I couldn't help but feel sickeningly nervous about it, though, as this was the first time I'd picked a lock in public. If the law caught me, chances of getting a way were next to nothing. This city was practically a fort.

There was a moment of blissful relief when the door finally clicked open. It was a noise as satisfying as opening a bottle on a hot Mid Year day. I noticed how much the occurrence had accelerated my heart rate.

I closed the door behind me, feeling victorious, then took time to survey the house.

It didn't look particularly welcoming. Cob webs were abundant, as were broken containers, with their contents spilling onto the floor. There wasn't a single place you could look in the house that wasn't noticeably marred. Faenlian certainly seemed like a fitting person to occupy it. Other than my footsteps, the house was silent. But somewhere, there must have been some clue about who I was dealing with. Some more information to construct my decisions with.

I walked over to the table. So far there was nothing nefarious about the house, despite the fact that it was certainly unwelcoming. I looked around for any piece of information that might tip the balance of my decision.

On the table was a half eaten meal, and two very small bottles. I picked one up, rolling it through my hands. It was light-weight, and a surface most likely of glass. Was this the skooma? Was I holding the illegal drug in my hands? The vials were far too small to contain any sort of refreshment. Yes, I must have been holding the dangerous and mind-mushing power of skooma in my hand. The size of the vial emphasized its potency. My mind was rushing with curiosity, maybe even astonishment at how much drinking the small vial could shift me on the roads of fate. There was an odd temptation to drink it, almost to prove my own free will. I imagined an odd thrill I'd get from such a radical act. But I let logic guide me and quickly put it down; undergoing the change of leaving the sanctuary was making my mind run in all sorts of crazy directions. Just like my physical being, my thoughts were wondering in all sorts of crazy places after being taken out of the my safe haven.

It was odd that someone living in such a rich and secure city would simply desert their house, but the rocky room seemed as lonely and unkept as a cave. I could safely assume this wasn't what the other countless houses in the Elven gardens district looked like.

I opened the door to the basement. I magically adjusted my eyes to the darkness. From what I could see, standing atop the steps, it was in similar disarray, only more so. It was as if a fight had occurred there. The silence seemed be tauntingly unbroken. I walked down the steps, and could feel a gaze upon my back. Though it was mostly for my own comfort, I swiftly turned around, imagining my arm might fly around to hit whatever mysterious stalker was there, but that did not happen. There was just something eerie about the place. The same feeling I had when I entered the Dark brotherhood hide-out for the first time, when my life was still unburdened by sad thoughts and hard decisions. When I always met the next day with certainty and rode through it in peace. How did I look at it all back then? I couldn't quite remember.

I trotted down the stairs and turned the corner. Through my colorless but bright night eye vision, I could see something mysterious on the basement floor, though most of it seemed to be hidden by the kegs which obscured my view. Whatever was on the floor seemed rounded, to have a shine, and be pretty much flat. My mind rushed through a bunch of bizarre ideas of what I might be looking at.

I tried to ignore the feeling that something was going on behind my back where ever I turned, and walked deeper into the basement.

As I came closer I realized the source of the substance; there was a corpse on the floor with a knife stuck solidly in its back. The substance was blood.

Above, I heard the door upstairs open. The emotional charge, making me feel awake and powerful, even at a guttural level, came back. This time, however, it pointed me in a clear direction. **Goes-in-heavy** had diluted and corrupted my memories. I wanted to believe him if only so I wouldn't need to confront the blunt and infuriating truth that he was indeed a cowardly traitor. He was just another person knowingly perverting the ideas of justice behind a mask of heroism, like the Legion, to escape the need to deal with scum like Faenlian. I'd been genuinely manipulated. He'd raise doubts in my mind that never should have come about. It was time to complete the contract.


	22. The Colovian West

Mid Year 30, 4E1

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil, Docks

* * *

I needed somewhere with plenty of privacy. No Inn would work, but I had little else to do other than wander. But I wasn't worried, I had plenty of time to wander. I had spent years wandering, plotting, planning, calculating, holding in anger, feeling moments of ecstacy and pain as my confidence waxed and waned. It was nothing new. 

It wasn't the first time I visited this pretty town, and the seagull's cry combined with the lap of the waves against the shore added to it. The docks area was filled with other rattles and cries. Yet nothing could relax me now. My heart was pumping, and I was ready to destroy anything that got in my way. That's how I always felt when my thoughts were free to drift, to come back to that horrible night. And those countless other horrible nights when I acted in kind.

Then the memory of killing Blanchard hit me. It hit me hard. I grabbed my stomach and grimaced, like the memories carried their own physical force.

"But they have no reason to suspect you, don't you see?" I had barely noticed I was talking to myself, so absorbed in the memories. The anger, the guilt, the humiliation, the tension. I ignored the odd stares I was getting and kept walking. There was an odd urge to fidget as I did though.

The sun was soaking my skin as I walked, the sky was clear and blue, but a vacancy of problems in the present only brought back the problems of the past. I had countless fantasies about challenging and outdoing these assassins the way I'd outdone so many victims during my carrier: I wanted to combine what had become my two greatest passions through my mind-warping time in the Dark brotherhood. I'd developed a passion for the assassination of both the guilty and innocent, a passion I knew I shouldn't have, but one which had become strong. I was changing into one of them. I had pushed myself so hard to pretend I'd sometimes forgotten if I was fighting for or against them, fighting for right or wrong, or what my past was.

But there was something worse they'd burned into me: a deep fear of the criminal underworld, and even some affections for the assassins themselves, because it was so much easier than holding on to this anger. But were the affections real? I'd tried not to feel any real ties to anyone since Mother died, but I couldn't remember what those ties felt like now, after so many years, so I didn't know if I was truly feeling them. I knew they'd all die eventually, and that didn't bother me. No, it wasn't real. I'd provided myself with false justifications for what they did, but that only created false love. The old "me" was simply dormant and, though it would take some courage, I'd bring him back soon enough. Return myself to a worthy human being. Demonstrate the effects of my unwavering effort. Make my name feared in their minds. Show them I had a goal that would not be hindered by fear or compassion; If there was one good thing that had yet come out of this, it was that I'd been hardened. Fluently capable of dealing and receiving the most gruesome atrocities. The one thing I was proud of.

I thought it might be time to ask one of the locals what they knew about a place to stay, though it took quite a lot of effort to tug my thoughts out of revenge and put them where they logically belonged. When I was so emotionally charged, logic became harder to recognize.

First I'd need to decide how I would phrase the question. 'Can you tell me where I can sleep and still get a bit of privacy?' sounded suspicious. However, nothing else was coming to me. I stopped and thought. Then it came to me, a seemingly riskless way of asking. 'I think all the Inns are full, can you tell me where I can sleep'? 'I think' was the key. That was my trick, I never said anything truly incriminating. Whether it was paranoia, I didn't know, but it guaranteed my safety.

I felt no worries asking that question. I was satisfied with my progress. _We're doing it, Mother._

Everyone on the docks seemed to be busy, and except for an older Nordic man, his hair a light-brown, leaning on a post and gazing at the light house.

I slowly approached him, wondering exactly when to break the silence. For a moment, I stood next to him, gazing at the light-house as well, but trying keeping him in the corner of my eye. I was hoping he'd say the first words, so I could seem casual enough.

Finally he looked over at me, "Aye," he said, and I pretended he'd taken me out of train of thought. His left eye was covered in a thick, milky white cloud, actually making me feel slightly uncomfortable at first, but then prompting an odd fascination. "I'm Ulfgar Fog-eye, master of that Lighthouse." He said, pointing a veiny hand at the building in calm satisfaction. "Visit the light house any time. Fine view of the town and harbor."

"Thanks." I said trying to sound casual, then, pretending like I'd almost forgotten to ask, added "Oh, maybe I can rent out a room in there. I think all the Inns are full."

He gave a grandfatherly, toothy smile "Sure. You don't mind the cellar right? I'll give it to you for 10 gold a night. Whadya you say?" The offer sounded honest enough, as did the man himself. I'd found my new home for now, but, like with everything else, I couldn't become attached to it.

(**Fights-up-close**): Dark brotherhood sanctuary, Cheydinhal

* * *

"**Fights-up-close**." Ocheeva said, in a quiet voice, almost sounding concerned. Once she got my attention, she beckoned me into her office. I actually couldn't help but get a bit nervous. Ever since **Goes-in-heavy**'s defection, I tended to get apprehensive at that tone of voice. Once we were in a place of privacy, however, she broke into a smile. 

"**I think its time you attend your first party.**" She said, her voice half normal, half whisper"**You've been invited to one.**" She said. I had no idea what she meant, but I was relieved. It seemed safe to conclude I wouldn't hear any bad news for another day or so. She seemed so full of personality, yet I could hardly remember her being that way as Shadowscale. What little I saw of her, that is. **"Of course, you'll be killing the other guests. Are you ready to attend?**"

"**Sure**." I responded. There wasn't anything else I was in the mood to do, and I felt almost trapped in the sanctuary, like I'd waste away if I didn't find something to take my mind off its usual course of moping.

"**Splendid.**" She said slowly, as if savoring the word "**You must go to the city of Skingrad, where you will find a large house called 'Summitmist manor'. There you will meet up with five very unlucky guests.**" She spoke slowly and clearly "**In order to receive the bonus you must eliminate all the guests secretly. One by one. If anyone sees you committing murder, the bonus is forfeit.**" Then she explained the details "**The guests believe there is a chest of gold hidden in the manor, and have agreed to be locked inside until one of them finds it. In fact, they believe that the key to the house is hidden inside the chest, and that only by satisfying their greed will they be allowed to leave. Poor fools.**" She said, sounding slightly amused at the blunt yet appropriate brutality of the idea. So much as hearing her label the targets as greedy, however, felt good. Ever little bit helped me feel more confident in the cause. "**Of course, there is no chest of gold. The guests will find no key. When you arrive the doors will be locked behind you, as everyone expects.**" Actually a very complicated assignment, but it didn't sound as dangerous as usual. "**Only when all the guests lie dead will you be free to leave. Now go. Have fun.**" She said. It actually felt kind of neat to be involved in such a complex contract. But there was something else satisfying about that conversation: she'd told me quite a bit about the situation, something **Goes-in-heavy** said would never happen. Sometimes it seemed almost like I'd dreamed his defection up.

I hoped Ocheeva didn't get the impression I was taking advantage of her generosity of information, but I decide to ask something anyway.

"**One by one, with no witnesses? Just curious, but why can't I take them down all at once?**" I asked.

"**We need you to act as not only an assassin, but also an agent of terror and grief. The guests will be in constant fear if they are uncertain of each other, and it will provide you with a tactical advantage. You see, each guest, at some point in the past, wronged their mysterious host, a retired member of the Black Hand. Now he's hired us to exact revenge**." I felt exhilarated and spirited to sweep away the last of the uncertainties in my mind. I once again remembered the days when I could plow through assignments with passion and confidence.

"**Got it.**" I replied, feeling in harmony once again with the Dark brotherhood.

"**The other guests are waiting, you should get going.**" Ocheeva said. I turned to leave her office.

Since **Goes-in-heavy**'s death, my assignments all seemed to be perfectly justified. His defection remained a bitter mystery. I still didn't know what corruption possessed and so quickly changed him into only a shallow resemblance of the friend I used to know. My life had become only a vague shadow of what it used to be as well, but maybe I could find peace. Maybe one day I could remember the passionate yearning I felt to serve in the Dark brotherhood, that distinct charm I was looking forward to, and use that knowledge to savor my current experience.


	23. Unprepared, not unlucky

Sun's Height 1, 4E1

A/N: Well, here we are: The Whodunit quest. Yeah, yeah, I know this has been written about countless times, but I think the way it impacts the main character's mind is ultimately important to the story. Sorry if this chapter seems confusing. Since the character herself is confused (I guess you could say) in this chapter, it was a bit hard to demonstrate this with out making the chapter a bit hard to read.

Anyway, this chapter has undergone minor revisions since I released the last chapter of this story. Revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and the author's notes of unrevised chapters.

(**Fights-up-close**): Skingrad

* * *

My first time in the Colovian West certainly was leaving a good impression. Skingrad was a nice town, filled with towering buildings and cobble stone pathways. The layout was a bit confusing, and it had taken me a bit longer than I'd have liked to find Summitmist Manor, but I was finally heading in the right direction. 

The territory Skingrad was built on, like the Imperial city, was warped beyond recognition. You could hardly recognize Nirn below all the pathways and buildings.

With every step closer to Summitmist manner, the thrill got greater: both the tension at the risk and the glee that I was doing a truly interesting contract. I decided a true guest would probably be feeling the same kind of excitement, though for different reasons, so I didn't let that feeling bother me.

I checked once again to make sure my dagger was concealed completely. I had been repeatedly shifting my clothing around to best cover it up as best as possible, as I knew even a sliver of it showing would have devastating effects on my mission. Not to mention it killed the mindset I was trying to create for myself.

Once I saw the doorman, I knew I had indeed been heading in the right direction. I stepped into the shaded area between the street and the doors.

"So, the last guest finally arrives." He said as I approached "First, I'll tell you what I told the others. You go in, I lock the door. You don't come out 'til its all over." I smiled at the double meaning the words held.

"Now," he continued excitedly "I'll tell you what I _didn't_ tell everyone else. We have the same mother, you and I, and she wants you to have this!" He brought a clenched fist forward and, in an almost ceremonious way, presented a key "It's the key to the house!" I picked it up from his outstretched palm, "I guess someone has filled you in on all the other details. Kill all the guests, then leave, right?" In a tone that was strikingly casual for someone who wasn't in uniform.

"One by one?" I inquired.

"Yeah. Well, you'd better get in there. Time to mingle!" He said with an invigorating enthusiasm, stepping aside and gesturing me towards the door, as I was now the most important part of this. I opened the door, the outdoor air meeting with that of the mansion, then quickly closed it. Shortly after it was closed, I heard it lock. Here it started.

There was an old woman standing on the carpet near the door with a rather dour look on her face, her hands folded on her lap. I could tell I wasn't going to like her already.

"So, the sixth guest finally arrives." She said. Her voice had an accent I couldn't quite decide the region of, and her tone sounded almost scornful "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting? It seems like an age!" Letting her displeasure slip out mercilessly into her voice. She was very old, so I supposed I shouldn't be surprised to hear her scold me like a kid. Still, I didn't appreciate anyone other than my employers trying to talk to me like I was in some lower world. I said nothing. I'd have to be careful not to give anyone a reason to hate me.

Soon enough she smiled as she made an obvious attempt to shift the conversation to a friendlier tone "In any event, we're all stuck here together. The rest of us have already traded introductions. I'm Matilde Petit. The others are Nels the Naughty, Neville, Dovesi Dran, and Primo Antonius." _Nels the Naughty?_ I thought, finding it a bit odd to hear her pronounce it just like others. "Now who might you be? Please, tell us a little bit about yourself." She said, in an almost guilt inducing politeness now. An obvious attempt to compensate her previous demonstrations of frustration.

"I...uh..." then I realized I hadn't thought about what to say if this question came up beforehand. I continued to try to buy time by saying a bunch of vague and common words, mixed with indications of thought. Then I nervously laughed, hoping that pretending to see the humor in all this would make me look less stupid. But it would have helped my ego if Matilde laughed with me, which she didn't. She just got more serious.

"Yes...well, anyway. Now that we're here, I guess we can really start looking. I'd wish you good luck, but I wouldn't really mean it." She said, her tone humorless, bringing us back to square one. I couldn't help but feel slightly angry, my mind rushing to point out every little fault in her.

She turned to walk back upstairs, though my thoughts remained in the conversation. I was reflecting on the potential consequences such a suspicious introduction could have, staring into the vast world of possible problems that might arise once suspicions began to emerge.

I tried to think of some back story for myself incase someone asked me those kinds of questions again.

Then something interrupted my train of thought. There were two other guests who'd just emerged from the basement. The Dark Elf girl in front was already approaching me, all smiles, with a boy who I hadn't had time to get a good look at behind her. I put my luggage down before looking up once again to meet their eyes.

She grinned and shook my hand vigorously. She was overflowing with friendliness, flaunting it like a work of art.

"Hello, I'm Dovesi! I'm _very_ pleased to meet you! Now that you're here we can really start looking for that gold!" She said, obviously more optimistic than Matilde. "What I mean to say is, before you arrived, we only really glanced around a bit. Now that we're all officially here, we can look in earnest!" She spoke in a very bubbly manner.

"Hi," I said "I'm **Swims-the-Shore**." Though the words felt oddly out of shape in my mouth. I wasn't used to using my code name.

Either way, I was glad she didn't pry any deeper. I didn't ask anything more about her in case it might give her the idea to do the same.

It was almost discomforting she was so friendly. I needed some flaw in their personalities to latch onto when blame started to get thrown around. That, and it would make it harder to hate her. Regardless, their kindness couldn't get in the way of this contract's completion; I knew better than to let my instinct of sympathy invade my reason. People could fool others with kindness: I was living proof of that.

Then, for a flash, something in my mind told me I could continue that train of thought and discover more. I tried to search for that pathway deeper into the subjects before someone interrupted.

A third guest, a late teenager in silky, regally colored and intricately designed robes spoke up "So, you finally showed up." He said, Dovesi turning to him with seemingly genuine interest "It's about time. People of my station are not accustomed to waiting." He stated in a firm, non-aggressive but also humorless manner, moving his tongue properly to each letter, showing their contrast

"Yeah, sorry about that." I replied "It's a long story." I'd have to get used to vague answers.

"Well, either way, here we all are. Its funny how money can bring people together, don't you think?" He replied, with a friendly smile. _Funny money would bring someone like __you__ here._ He was obviously rich.

"Heh, yeah." I responded "I didn't get your name, by the way."

"Primo Antonius." He responded, "It's a regal name, from a rather regal family. Indeed, my father owns more property than the entire East Empire company." He said the last words in an annoyingly non-chalante manner. _Maybe these people won't be so hard to hate_, I thought, my initial spirit coming back. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to search the basement." He said, adjusting his layered robes slightly.

They glided behind him as he headed towards the same door he came out of. Dovesi followed. I was sensing something between them, and was genuinely curious to see what they were like in private. After all, it was hard to imagine them searching down their together without socializing.

Now that I was alone on the ground floor, I became deep in thought. Already, for some reason, I felt tense, and felt like I had already come off as moronic as I recalled my own words. My thoughts were replaying the conversation for a small amount of time, but it wasn't long before the silence was broken as I heard more footsteps upstairs, followed by a deep, Cyrodiillic voice.

"So, Nord. If you find the gold, what will you spend it on? Wait, let me guess, a sleazy whore, and a nice new battle axe! Am I right?" Whoever it was obviously waited for privacy to make his mean spirited remark, even though he was mistaken that no one was around to hear. Clearly a coward.

"No," said another deep, Nordicly accented voice "I'm going to open a tavern. Not that I'd welcome any of your patronage. No Imperial Legion pigs allowed inside, you see. You Legion types tend to stink up a place." I was glad glee to see a fight already. Nothing was so satisfying as hearing your enemies tare each other apart, while you watched safely from a distance, listening to karma at work.

"A tavern?" The other voice asked eagerly, then burst out into hearty laughter "Oh I should have known! Leave it to a barbarian to spend an entire chest full of gold on beer and mead! How pathetic!" Enjoying the words in his own arrogant sadism.

"You can call me barbarian. It's the truth, and I'm proud of the fact. But you call me pathetic again, and I'll show you just how _barbaric_ I am." Already it looked like the fight was teetering on the verge of violence. Adrenaline began to fill my body as I waited for the next words, genuinely immersed in what I was listening to.

"With every word you speak you're just proving me right, Nord. Your kind has contributed nothing to the Empire and never will!" Unfortunately, the legionary managed to cleverly work his away around violence without backing down.

The Nord laughed, akin to the way his tavern idea was laughed at. Poetic justice. "My kind, as you like to call us, are plenty happy serving our own needs while your useless 'Empire' crumbles down around you!" It was an obvious low blow, and anticipation was brewing inside me. I was sure I could create some real epic moments between the guests. 'Serving our own needs' sounded vaguely selfish, which helped to reassure me of my mission. I was eager to hear the response.

"Your words border on treason." The legionary said accusingly, in a quiet voice that quickly became louder "You will respect the Empire and you will respect the memory of our dear Emperor!" His last words were yelled so loud I couldn't contain a mysterious urge to smile. Another opportunity for bloodshed, and the whole house had probably heard him. I waited eagerly. As exhausting as the journey had been, I now felt more awake and energetic than ever, and felt more than ready to join the war in some way.

"Oh don't get your linens in a bunch! You have no authority in this house or anywhere else! You're not even in the Legion anymore." The other man replied, now clearly dominating the verbal battle. It was nice to see the person who didn't strike first get the advantage, even when they were both marked men.

"Even so I still serve the Empire _in my heart_ and will not abide such talk! Now walk away from me, barbarian, or you'll live to regret your arrogance."

"Pbft. I was done with you anyway." The Nord said, cleverly working his way around the threat just like the legionary. "I can only talk to an ex-Legion pig for so long before my ears start bleeding. Besides, I need a drink." He ended his words in laughter, something I was a bit disappointed to hear, but seeing conflict sprout up so quickly was certainly exciting. I could hear the legionary walking away. No doubt I could create a sort of chaos in this house worthy of a story book.

I realized I needed to stop with vague fantasy: I needed an actual procedure.

I began to think about it all with cold logic. I'd want someone I could pin the murder on, which would both decrease the danger to me and increase it to another guest.

I could hear a door open and close. So far, one of the two I'd heard quarreling seemed like the person who I should pin the murder on. Kill one and blame the other. The other three guests would be my tools against the remaining of the two quarrelers, but I needed to take advantage of the hate while it was still simmering, because they weren't like me. They'd drop the issue as soon as the emotional motivation was gone; just like everyone else who deserved their fates. None the less, being rushed in an assignment wasn't something I liked.

It seemed like a good time to start heading upstairs, though I didn't quite want to get involved in the conflict _just_ yet.

I prepared my own facade as I walked towards the leftward of the two stair cases leading to the next floor. I'd need to keep my words concise, unbiased, and touch on topics other than the fight to avoid sounding like a rabble rouser. Either way, I was glad that the fight gave me some material to work with. Once they gave me a place to start, I knew I could carry this as far as I wanted.

As I walked up the stairs, I started pretending I was just what they thought I was: a harmless guest. I'd chat it up with the guests a bit, just like the rest.

It seemed like a pretty cosmopolitian crowd, which should be interesting. Like with any Shadowscale transfering here, any classes on language, history, current events, and cultural sensitivity were limited to my homeland or Cyrodiil, so I had a lot I could learn here.

I turned left to see the dining area. There was round table with enough chairs for the guests, myself included, with sweet rolls and beverages already set out. Immediately my stomach started to feel empty. The Nord was unscrewing a beer, straining his hand until he finally got the cap off, then quickly pouring the liquid into a mug. I walked towards the table, planning on grabbing a sweetroll to seem more casual. The man was drinking the beer like it was medicine, gulping it down quickly between a few gasps for breath.

I picked up a sweetroll and took a bite, pretending not to be thinking about him at all. The sweet roll was actually pretty good. It was fluffy, not too dry, and with very sweet glazing. He sure was providing well for the people he wanted dead. I purposely chewed it slowly, staring at the painting on the wall.

There were windows at the front of the dining area, letting in the bright afternoon light, shooting columns of illumination at a painting on the wall, making countless sparkling dust particles visible. To think that was all that was in the air I was breathing right now...

Finally the Nord acknowledged me, after wiping his mouth from his very quick and intense drinking.

"Well hello there." he said in way that seemed a bit too...forward "Nels is the name. Some call me naughty, but don't you believe it." He continued in rather goofy manner, then laughed. It was odd he'd managed to be so cheery, even after the rather brutal verbal confrontation.

"Uh, hi Nels." I said, already feeling slightly uncomfortable around him. He seemed to sense what I was feeling.

"Ah, don't let the name fool you. I had a bit too much mead a few years back, and there was this tavern wench...anyway, just call me Nels." Oddly enough, he was likable.

I felt confident about bringing up the fight now that he seemed welcoming enough, if only to hear more about the legionary.

"So, I guess someone from the legion is here. Don't let him get to you." I said. Once I shifted the conversation to feuds and rivalry, I could become effective.

Nels smile vanished. Bringing him back into the conversation, he rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Neville? Once an Imperial Legion bulldog, always an Imperial Legion bulldog." Already I could see the objective of this contract starting to come alive. It was happening _much_ faster than I expected. I had spent almost no time confined to solitary planning, and very little time watching for glimmers of hope, suppressing urges to kill. Nels continued "I've seen his kind before; Care about laws and regulations, not people." Surprisingly, Nels had expressed my thoughts about the legion better than I could. I couldn't bring myself to reply anything else, but I wouldn't mind playing friendly-house-guest towards him a bit longer.

"Exactly." I said. I had become so immersed in the conversation, I almost forgot the sweetroll in my hand. I took another bite, though it was purposely shallow.

Since my mind was basically empty as to how to continue this very useful situation, I made a point of chewing for a while. I was glad to finally find someone who shared my feelings for the legion; I had more than enough feelings to vent and felt more than a little lonely in that area. Or no, I was glad to see an uneasiness I could manipulated to my advantage. Already I'd tried so hard to pretend I was another guest, I was starting to forget the difference between reality and make-believe.

I turned back to the painting, letting Nels take his time to find his next words. Meanwhile, my mind was rushing with all sorts of bizarre fantasies that were an odd mix of violent stories I'd read about and realistic depictions of how to turn the house against Neville. Which, I noticed, didn't sound like a very Imperial name, oddly enough.

I wondered what Nels was doing during this silence. A slight ache was building up in my neck, so I decide to stretch it out, purposely in a way that would grant me a quick glance at Nels. I threw my head to the left and brought it around with some small but satisfying cracks. When I glanced at Nels, though, I was slightly...saddened to see his smile had not returned.

It was not long after that he finally spoke again "Well, I better start looking, that gold's not going to find itself." He said, immediately moving random objects on the nearest shelf. He seemed distracted.

Distracted. That meant opportunity. It was a gift from Sithis, but it felt like a curse right now.

I had to think fast: I'd already decided I'd need to kill Nels or Neville, but Nels seemed rather kind. Heck, I was starting to like Nels, and forcing justice without passion was horribly difficult. Still, I'd made a pledge to myself; I couldn't be deceived by kindness. People could be phony, and if I wanted to fully protect myself from lies I'd need to push emotion aside.

But how should this factor into my decision of who to kill and who to blame? I tried to imagine it in raw calculation. It was a slow and tedious process, but it made everything a lot more sure and coming to a conclusion a lot more satisfying. If I could, I wanted to give Nels the more pleasant side of this ordeal.

Whoever got killed would not have to deal with getting blamed. But obviously getting killed wouldn't be too pleasant either. But they'd all have to die, so getting killed inevitably happened to both, meaning I shouldn't even take that into consideration. So the only remaining factor is the blame. So yes, that puts the idea of killing Nels first ahead because he wouldn't have to deal with the blame. _Is that right? Yes, your last epiphany was about the blame, so that was the deciding factor, so it leads to Nels. Is that right? Why would your last epiphany be the right one? _

By Sithis, was making a decision always this hard? Why were more and more questions coming by the second? Why did I need to work out every drop of logic? They seemed like ridiculous questions, but they were dulling my confidence to a point where I almost forgot what decision I was thinking over. I tried to shut out the nagging voice in my head. But was I shunning logic this way? I was trying grasp at reason and rationality, but my thoughts seemed to be getting harder and harder to grab at the more I thought.

Purely on will-power I began the procedure for the kill, while my thoughts flew past me. Was I guilty of ignoring truth, though? No, I'd proved that I had to kill Nels first already. I had to push the doubt aside. There was one more thing I needed to check before making the kill, however.

I looked up at the ceiling and pushed the internal bickering aside without reflecting further so I could use my "detect life" spell. As I did, bizarre patterns of shading on the ceiling became more and more apparent, until I could see them in definite shapes. Yes, two people were upstairs. They were both on opposite corners. This was indeed the opportune moment.

But then one more question popped up: should I use my Shadow power before the kill? The answer was no, I needed to save it for the inevitable time when the guests would begin crowding together. Once I stabbed him, I'd just have to run down one flight of stairs and come up the adjacent set.

My arms filled with an almost numb sensation as I knew I was about to do a daring deed. Nels was distracted as he shuffled through the shelves. I just had to hope the others heard the verbal fight.

I slowly took the dagger from its hiding place. Then, for a second, I just stood there. But there was nothing standing in my way other than my own corrupted thoughts. Each second was just a test of courage, the one area of the soul free from all other influences. Failing that test was not an option.

I threw my arm towards his back. Once the dagger was in flight, I knew I'd broken through an emotional barrier. My will had conquered my feeling. I got a tingling sensation realizing it had now sealed my first kill.

The knife stabbed through his back with brutal fluency, followed by a loud cry of pain and panic. I immediately removed the knife and, in a light, half leaping, half running kind of movement on the tips of my toes, made my way to the steps and down the stairs.

Already I could hear the doors upstairs swing open, slamming with a noise as loud and violent as Nels' cry of pain. I purposely made my steps louder as I went back up the second flight of stairs, concealing my dagger on the way.

When I made it up again, I could already see the backs of two heads. Neville, and, closer to the stairs, Matilde. I could only wonder what their facial expressions were. For now, they were still in stunned silence.


	24. Battlelines

Sun's Height 1, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Skingrad, Summitmist Manor

* * *

I could hear the basement door swing open and two sets of feet trotting frantically up the stairs behind me. A redguard, who I now gathered was Neville, and Matilde continued to stare, though I noticed Matilde had her hands over her mouth. Stunned silence. An easy action to mimic. Like them, I did not turn around to see who was behind me, though I was curious. I had to wonder what thoughts were going through their heads amid all the silence. Now doubt their minds couldn't have been more active, but I'd nearly forgotten what fear and repulsion towards violence felt like. 

"I'm the trained investigator here." The redguard said, breaking the silence as abruptly as I had broken Nels' flesh. I was surprised to hear the voice of the Legionary come from him. It seemed almost unfitting; there wasn't a trace of Hammerfell in it Going into professional mode, he gestured everyone to stay back without moving his eyes. He unraveled his hand as if to put an invisible wall between himself and the crowd, and then slowly and cautiously approached the body. He crouched over it, studying it impartially. He studied it like an object as opposed to a person, but like a fragile and precious object as opposed to a common commodity. I couldn't help but wonder how this was going to play out, or what wide range of thoughts could be going on in his head. He maintained a perfectly neutral expression.

"Alright everyone." Neville said, again showing us his palms as if to put an invisible barrier up "I've got some thinking to do. I'll be upstairs. Either come up stairs with me or stay together." Neville began walking towards the stairs while I continued to stare in the same kind of stunned silence everyone else was at the body. I felt an odd twitching my leg. I almost forgot I had killed him. I wasn't repulsed, I wasn't afraid, but something wouldn't let me stop looking at the body.

Matilde broke the silence once again, though I was a bit more prepared this time "Oh this is horrible." she said, her emotion evident in her quivering voice "who would kill a defenseless person in cold blood?" her voice practically becoming a whimper with the last word "Greed truly brings out the worst in people." She turned around to face us.. "I'm going up with Neville." She announced, and proceeded. With two interruptions to my train of thought I made the decision to stop my pointless stunned silence. There was nothing but willpower stopping me.

I shot around to glance at the two younger guests. In me, there was a hardy intent to investigate the crime and take down the killer; or, correction, that's what I was trying to make it look like, but I was so deep into the "house guest" mindset by now that it felt genuine, I supposed.

"Are you alright?" Dovesi said,"This murder has us all on edge, I know." The danger seemed to bring out comradery more than paranoia. Even I could feel it, in addition to an odd pride simply in being alive.

"I'm fine. Thanks." I said. Then, simply out of reaction, looked towards the door upstairs to make sure neither Neville or Matilde could be listening. Then I spoke again, in a quieter voice "Matilde and Neville were on this floor when I got here." Allowing them to assess the implications themselves. Once again the house fell into silence. I waited as countless opportunities to break it passed. It was broken eventually, but not by Primo or Dovesi. It sounded like drawers opening and heavy objects being moved upstairs.

"Something tells me the death of one of the guests isn't going to stop Matilde from searching for that gold. She strikes me as the greedy type." Primo said in somewhat of a whisper. Already I could get sense of battle-lines forming. A new mood was encroaching on the house. Unlike I'd expected, though, it was a feeling of strength in unity, willingness endanger one's self, maybe even thoughts of honor that could come out of taking down the murder.

Right now, I felt as willing to engage in further bloodshed as if it were some kind of game, as long as it meant getting rid of the murder. That would be truly exhilarating. Except I was the murderer, but I was falling for my own illusion again.

"I don't trust that old hag!" Dovesi said through clenched teeth, more to Primo than to me, suppressing her own volume "She pretends to like you and then stabs you in the back! Who knows, maybe she'll _really_ stab you in the back!" Already the three of us seemed to be uniting fast. But I had to remember, I wanted to pin this on Neville.

"Then there's Neville..." I started.

"He seems on edge, doesn't he?" Primo commented, not quite taking it the way I intended "I guess you can take the man out of the Legion, but you can't take the Legion out of the man." I was a bit annoyed with Primo's unquestioning attitude, aswell as his attempt to sound smart.

"I mean, he's a soldier..." I started once again.

"Does being a soldier make him a good person?" Dovesi cut me off angrily, again obviously not taking my comment the way I intended "Does it make him above murder? I hardly think so." I was a bit irritated she was so quick to get hostile, especially when she hadn't made a similar comment to Primo. Still, in this situation it was easy to give and take petty annoyances

"No, that's what I'm saying. He's used to killing. And did you hear that fight he had with Nels?" The two just stared in silence "C'mon. Let's discuss this at the table." I said, pointing towards the table with the beverages and sweet rolls, feeling a childish satisfaction at such a simple suggestion. All 3 of us eagerly grabbed at something that looked like strategy and might give us an advantage over the killer. I sat down first, keeping my vision locked on both of them until they sat down. Primo sat on my right, and Dovesi went behind me to make her way over to my left, though I didn't like having either of them out of my field of view for even a second.

We all sat down, ready to let the strategical suggestions and detective work flow. There was an odd sort of funness about this. Was this some kind of game to me? Then I realized, yes. I had no reason to worry for my own safety. _I_ was the killer, and things were going well. All this detective work was a game.

"Listen," I said, as Dovesi and Primo eyed me eagerly "We know it was Neville or Matilde. In fact, they may well be working together. I don't know, but we need to watch each other's backs. I'm going to try and eavesdrop upstairs. You two stay right here." Working toghether. That was a score.

I was satisfied with how quickly they accepted my suggestion. These situations really seemed to bring about something you could respect in everyone. Well, everyone you worked with, but right now, those of us in the dining area and those of us upstairs felt like warring nations. I would either be a war hero, or the first casualty. Perhaps both.

I looked around for any long, solid object that was light enough to lift. I could turn it into a defensive weapon. I removed myself from my chair to look around more thoroughly, scanning everything that wasn't attached to the walls.

I was very glad to see there was a gleaming shortsword on the bottom of one of the bookshelves. At first it seemed like luck, but then I realized our host might be more clever than I gave him credit for.

I picked up the weapon, enjoying the feeling of heavy, solid power. I was more than ready to engage in bloodshed, whoever's blood ended up being spilled. I began creeping towards the door with a new confidence, keeping my foot steps right, and making sure they met with the floor with near perfect harmony. I was satisfied with the fact that they were nearly inaudible. However, the stairs were the area that really mattered.

I put my feet on the opposite sides of the stairs. Stealth was a very rich art. Even in an area as small as this house, it could hold so much potential to succeed and fail in the arts of stealth.

When I made it to the top of the stairs, I decided it was time to see if I could get some readings on the top floor, to see where Matilde and Neville were roughly. I immediately made my mind go silent once again, the lines and barriers of everything fuzzing. My view became more like a painting of countless colored dots, and new contrasts were emerging. The "temporary insanity" payed off, as I soon saw two purple blobs. Both were located as far from the door as possible.

I decided I should push open the door so I could listen better. There wasn't much to fear by getting caught. Heck, it might make the next death come sooner.

I opened the door a minimal distance and then squeezed my way in, the side of the door brushing against me. Then, moving forward in a stealthy manner, intricately unique to normal walking, I inched closer to the door to one of the bedrooms, where both Matilde and Neville should have been.

"Please sweetie, stay close to me. The killer might strike again. Whoever he...or she, is." Matilde said, her voice high and unfirm with panic. Both of them were alive. It took me a second to remember that wasn't contrary to what I expected. This assignment was truly unique and much deeper than any I'd had before.

"Right now, my main concern is figuring out who the murder is. I've seen enough in my time to know anyone is capable of murder if they have the right motivation." Neville said, he seemed exasperated trying to keep Matilde calm, yet he did well not to let his emotions seep into his words, even when they were in his tone. "One less nord in the world is normally something I'd cheer about," Neville said with an unphased bluntness almost enough to make me cringe "but the fact that he was murdered by a fellow guest does put a damper on things. You mark my words. This whole party is a trap. Someone wants us dead and now they have their chance. Dovesi may be young, but she was..." It sounded like Neville was onto the idea, but I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. It probably added to his panic, maybe even a feeling of defeat.

The old woman cut him off. "That little tramp is as guilty as sin, you hear me! She's the killer and if we don't keep her eyes on her she'll do it again!" She said, her voice thick with a desperate panic.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions." Neville said, the reasonable and less emotional of the two by a long shot "Don't forget about the sixth guest. She showed up minutes ago, never even introduced herself to me, and now someone's been killed. I haven't quite put the pieces together, but I'm close." It was clear Neville was a dangerous mind. It was hard to feel safe with him alive. All the more reason to turn the rest of the house against him.

Matilde inhaled a deep and irregular breath, and soon enough I heard footsteps coming my way. I looked at the door. She would need to push it opened to get into the hallway, and the hinges were closer to me. I stood up straight, and pushed myself tightly against the wall. First I pressed the back of my head against it, then slowly inched my heels to touch it as best I could. At this moment I hated my tail. I had to hope Matilde would go into the room across from Neville, as opposed to lingering in the hallway.

The door opened. So far, the only thing I was picking up was disembodied noise. Then I saw the door moving back to its original location, as Matilde tightly closed it. It was quite clear to me that this was my last second before detection

She looked at me and gasped, holding her hand to her chest, but my sword soon cut through the fragile flesh around he neck.

Her throat slit, she fell to the floor, unable to utter a scream, kicking and screaming against the overwhelming presence of pain and panic as her blood began to abandon her. This, all occurring in a second, had triggered Neville to get up. I could hear him running towards the door with ferocious force. I dropped the bloody sword, letting it fall to the floor with a shrill clattering.

I immediately pushed my Shadow energy to the surface of my skin, in time to hear a louder sound that resulted from the door swinging opened and hitting the nearby wall.

Then there was silence. My mind was rushing with his potential thoughts and actions.

In an attempt to gain surprise against his unseen enemy, he abruptly slammed the door closed again, and quickly got into the appropriate stance for unarmed combat, his face baring a stern anger. Dangerous mind or not, I was outsmarting him, despite his attempts to grasp at little bits of strategy. None the less, his expression remained confident. Yet all he could do was stare for a few seconds. I was totally invisible to him. Something most Shadows couldn't come close to accomplished. It wasn't long before he entered the room Matilde was heading too, his fists still clenched. It was quite satisfying to see him deceived. I did my best to keep my breaths shallow, until I figured he was far enough away. His footsteps allowed me to imagine how close to the door he was.

I slowly inched my way back to the stairs. I once again slipped through the door.

As I very slowly and lightly crept down the stairs I began imagining I'd just witnessed Neville murder Matilde. I tried to reimagine the scenario that way, trying to see, even if for a flash, what kind of focuses and mixes of emotions my mind would take on in that situation. I began to shake slightly, that was a good sign, but was I convincing enough? I continued to wrack my brain for an incident where I'd seen someone truly innocent struck down by someone I feared. I couldn't recall one. Still, I had a decent imagination.

When I finally made it down the stairs both Primo and Dovesi stared at me wide eyed and wide mouthed.

I beckoned them closer. All 3 of us huddled together in unhesitant unity before I began speaking in a quiet voice, between a whisper and normal volume. "Neville killed Matilde." I said, immediately embracing the same panicky voice Matilde had, making my eyes wide with vulnerable concern "He didn't see me, but he killed her." I said. The words felt like they weren't quite the right shape to be in my mouth. This was the first time I'd ever not taken credit for a kill

Dovesi's face was slowly sharpening. I could tell there was a fire burning inside her at Neville, with the same loathing Nels and I had for the Legion. It wasn't often you saw this kind of drive in people, but it was refreshing. Primo's face, however, didn't seem to change from that look of surprise.

"What if Matilde found the gold, and Neville killed her for it? Maybe that means the rest of us are safe." Dovesi's eyebrows shot up in unspoken pleading for Primo to continue. "If that's the case, then the killer got what he was after, and the rest of us needn't worry about our own safety." Was he genuinely unphased by anything other than danger to himself? Primo's pacifistic optimism irritated me, but I had to remember they were the same kind of phony cowards I'd dealt with so many times before. But I had to suppress my anger for now. It would be for the greater good in the end.

"It didn't look that way to me." I replied.

"I don't care about the gold anymore, I just want to get out of here!" Dovesi said, her voice thick with panic "I'm going to try all the windows and doors and see if I can't get one opened!"

"No," I shouted in reply, as that was the last thing I wanted to hear "We know who the killer is. He's no match for the three of us. I dropped the sword, but we need to get ready to defend ourselves. Pick up anything you can use as a weapon." I had already become a leader of sorts to them. Their moments before death would have a sense of significance to them, unlike was the case with most of my targets, who never even saw their assassin.

I began surveying the area for anything long and solid I could get a feeling of dominance from. How exhilarating it would be to outsmart and outmatch the killer, I thought. To prove our unified will to survive over his greed through our teamwork and finally release that fear and anger that had been building inside us. Then I remembered again,_ I_ was the killer. All this holding back, all this pretending. I was living safely cooped up into my own engineered, and very nice, reality, free of fear of getting caught, and fear of being the victim at the same time.

I looked on the shelf to my left and saw a ceramic pitcher. It looked like something that could be converted to a rudimentary weapon and at least give me the upper hand over someone who wasn't armed. I picked it up and held it upside-down. I could tell it could inflict some pain.

I got in combat stance, half hunched-over with the hand holding the pitcher back, my other hand well in sight. I could easily imagine swinging and hitting Neville painfully in the head before he had a chance to get his hands on me. It put a field of advantage between me and Neville. Feeling a bit more powerful, I slowly advanced towards the stairs. Dovesi and Primo were behind me and armed similarly, I presumed. I didn't bother to look back, however, as right now, fear wasn't even crossing my mind. Just the glorious image of us banding together, taking a little bit of the honor of defeating the killer for ourselves each. We'd already managed to accomplish some very fluent and efficient teamwork, I supposed, as there had been no arguments.

But I could hear something odd upstairs, a clanking like that which I'd heard so many times walking past Legion soldiers. Had Neville brought a suit of legion armor? That would provide a greater advantage to him than any weapon could provide me. All the sudden, there was a terrible sinking feeling inside of me.


	25. Unstable

Sun's Height 1, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Skingrad, Summitmist Manor

* * *

The door upstairs came open. Neville was fully suited in Imperial Legion armor, presenting hardly a single spot of vulnerability or opportunity. He also had a mace in his hands. For a brief second, I wanted to cringe at the brutal power such heavy weaponry looked like it could hold. I could imagine it cracking my skull with little resistance 

"Well, well," Neville said, a hint of bitter laughter in his voice as he peered straight into my eyes "look who's here. It's my number one suspect in two cold-blooded murders. I'm watching you, scum." He started to walk down the stairs though his ominous comment continued to simmer within me. I tried to internally debate whether to step out of his way or unflinchingly stand my ground, as was my usual policy, but my thoughts were silent. The sight of him in that heavy armor was enough to intimidate me, and I stepped out of his way, though hated myself immediately afterwards. None the less, I had to dig deeper than normal to see right from wrong in this situation, considering I was undercover.

"Primo," Neville said in an infuriatingly calm voice "we need to talk. Privately." I turned to see Primo's reaction, silently rooting for it to demoralize Neville. Primo was wide-eyed, and backing up, but, though his voice shook with the fear he was trying to conceal, he made an effort to not be completely submissive.

"Two people are dead, and for all I know, you could have killed them!" He shouted, "Just leave me alone you worthless peasant!" I was thoroughly glad to see him handle it with some bravery, as well as see I'd been convincing. I was kind of hoping for Neville's response to allow this all to blow up and end here.

Neville grabbed Primo by the arm, again, calmly as his armor warranted him to be, then said, holding his anger between his teeth "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. Now come with me!" And began leading him upstairs. There was no struggle from anyone. Other than their footsteps, there was silence, mocking us.

Dovesi and I simply stood in stunned silence. I could feel my hand quivering in the response to the, meaningful and unexpected developments that were taking place. Did I really just witness someone being taken off to be murdered while we were helplessly trapped in a locked house? No, I had to remember who I was. This boded poorly in worse ways.

There was silence from my violated mind. I'd been horribly outdone already. Neville had brought a weapon and full suit of armor, and now planned on talking to Primo for Sithis knows what. Whatever it was, I wouldn't trust him when he wasn't in my presence.

I turned to Dovesi, who was holding a silver carafe the way I was holding the ceramic vase. Now we looked utterly ridiculous, not like an intimidating fighting force. I could tell she thought this would be the last we saw of Primo unless we attempted a nearly impossible rescue. I knew hwo she felt: this would be her test, the moment in her life that decided if she lead an unordinary one that wwould be remembered by those she didn't know.

"I...I wanted to get to know him. Be his friend. Maybe...maybe more. I can't believe he's gone."

"He's not gone yet. Just a second, I need to think." I said, trying to ignore all other distractions and bring back the right memories, both of events and epiphanies that might lead me on to what to do next. Inevitably, I wanted to "rescue" Primo, but whether I should go alone, possibly kill him and blame it on Neville again, or bring Dovesi, so we could both attack Neville, was a question I'd need answered fast. So far I'd been satisfied with the strategies I'd been using, but I need another epiphany for the next step.

If I went up with Dovesi, I might be taking Neville on 3 to 1. However, whoever survived, I would still need to take on. No more pieces of reason came into my head, so I tried to think about my other option.

If I went up by myself, I could kill Primo myself and blame it on Neville. Or probably not, because I doubted they'd be in separate rooms. Basically, I would have a stealth advantage, but would be taking Neville on 2 to 1. That would also mean I'd need to deal with Dovesi later. That put the idea of going up with Dovesi ahead.

There was a flash of confidence and satisfaction at the epiphany, but soon this emotion went away. I felt I needed to check my logic again. The last conclusion I came to was that I'd have less guests to deal with by charging in with Dovesi. So yes, that meant taking Dovesi was right. But this time, it felt less confident. I decided to check over my logic again, and was immediately assaulted by seemingly ridiculous questions. Or was this my strategical mind going to new levels?

_Do I have evidence that I wouldn't need to take on as many guests if we all charged at Neville? Do I know stealth isn't more important than numbers?_

Immediately I felt frustrated. I wanted to do this before I forgot the decision I'd made. I left the nagging and annoying questions unanswered, but found the incident somewhat disturbing. Was I over-thinking tactics just when they came to matter the most? Was I wearing out that part of my mind from overuse? Dovesi knew none of my internal conflict. I had to wonder how many other people had such a stormy mind

"Okay, Dovesi, we're going to need to get up there and rescue Primo together." I said, immediately taking the role of commander in our little force, though it felt totally fake, like this was some kind of game. "Just stay close to me, and do what I do."

I beckoned her to the stair case, and got back into my sneaking position. I had learned to use every inch of this small, stairs case to my advantage now. Each movement I made had a purpose. Dovesi, was of course, less experienced in the arts of stealth. I wasn't really worried about her revealing us, though. In fact, it would be better if this resulted in a bloody battle.

I slowly opened the door. I could already hear yelling in the room to my left, where Neville had spent most of his time and was now probably interrogating Primo.

"She's upset, you buffoon!" Primo shouted through the walls "Just like the rest of us! I hope you're not suggesting she could be the killer." For some reason, I had a mysterious urge to smile at seeing such strong emotion I'd caused. But then I realized something less pleasant:

I knew it wouldn't bode well for me if this conversation continued. I knew Neville wasn't the killer, and I didn't want Dovesi to know he was just interrogating him. I had to push everything else aside and, with an animal like simplicity in my state of mind, burst through the door, shunning cowardly impulses and using my free will to make sure this justice saw through before the risks started to sink in. I just had to hope I wouldn't be taking Neville on alone.

I burst through the door

I caught only a brief glimpse of the situation I'd been listening in on before I made contact with Neville's armor. Primo was seated on a wooden bench, Neville standing tall over him. A pose I was used to seeing in interrogation.

Soon I'd been in world of confused and aimless destruction. I dived straight for Neville. We both fell to the ground, his metal helmet hitting the wooden front of a bed. It would have normally been pretty painful for him, but his blasted armor made him nearly invincible. How they could even shape the metal like that was another mystery. If I survived this, I never wanted to see another suit of Legion armor again. This wasn't a slow-paced contest of skill like a sword fight. I was just feeling around wildly in countless ways for some possibility of getting the armor off.

I started tugging at his helmet, and finally managed to slide it off. His soft, vulnerable head was exposed, giving me my opportunity. Unfortunately, Neville had managed to stretch his hand far enough to grab his mace during that time. Knowing there'd be an impending strike, I rolled out of the way, my joints uncomfortably moving against the hard floor. Within a couple of seconds I was on my feet, though a couple of seconds felt like an age long test of luck during combat, as the situation could move to your enemies advantage easily during that time. And it did.

Neville lifted his arm for a second strike on me, the mockery the weapon would make of my skulls ability to protect my brain instantly registered.

Before I could reflect any further, however, Neville's arm was tugged at from behind by Dovesi, causing him to stumble backwards amid the confusion. It was a much more chaotic and diverse fight than I was sure he was used to. But that was the bitter beauty of a job like mine; it had no limits. It could become a test of every aspect of someone.

Legs and arms flailing on both sides, Neville's fell onto his back, though of course he remained physically unharmed. His armor was doing an infuriatingly good job. Nonetheless, Dovesi still had that carafe, and was ready to strike Neville's now exposed head. Neville managed to strike first, with a merciless brutality acquired in a life or death situation. Hitting the girl in the head, she fell down, all resistance instantly nullified with her broken skull, hitting the ground with a thud just as ruthless.

I had little time to reflect on this, as Neville was soon once again advancing with frightening speed and naked ferouscity.

At an even more amazing speed, thoughts of life and death went through my head as I continued to back pedal, ultimately stumbling over something behind me. I was in a moment of fright and shock before hitting my head hard on the stone wall. So many forces were working against me at once. It must have only been a fraction of a second before there was a blur heading towards Neville. Neville, unlike the time I had dived at him, managed to learn from his mistake and turn around. I did my best to ignore the pain that was constantly pushing on my thoughts, hoping its unforgiving nature would soon wear out. I watched the fight between him and Primo carefully, wondering how I should interfere.

The two men immediately began locked in contest of strength, both grimacing, trying to squeeze out all their strength to knock the other down. But Neville soon changed the terms of engagement and outwitted the young noble, delivering a solid punch to the side of his head with the metal knuckles his armor, who fell down, like Dovesi, in ominous silence. Two fates sealed.

There was only one guest left now (not including myself), but I could hardly have thought of a worse situation I could have gotten myself into. I was unarmed, unarmored, and the opposite was true of my opponents. As Neville advanced, I felt light-headed. I felt like my thoughts were drifting every which way, no longer anchored into place.

"So, here we both are. Retired Imperial Legion officer and hired assassin." Neville said as he got closer. I hadn't even gotten up, I didn't even dare. It would only bring his mace closer to my head. There was pain in various parts of my body, but I could only wait for that to pass. In the meantime, I needed a solution "So, who do you work for? The Morag Tong? The Dark brotherhood?" I was silent. "No matter. I've faced your kind before. You're cowards. You use stealth and lies to destroy innocent lives!" I could feel that usual destructive energy flowing through every fiber of my body at his arrogance to hijack the name of justice, but I was helpless to do anything about it. It seemed like I might truly be defeated. "All of that ends _now_! Prepare to meet your doom!" The words seemed all too real.

I managed to role out of the way of his first blow, my body uncomfortably moving across the edges of the chest I'd managed to land on. I was corned now. Painfully shifting my weight around, I managed to get out my dagger, but it increased my chances only the slightest bit.

Neville pulled back for what would be the last swing I'd ever see. I'd be in the void the instant it hit my head, finally seeing what awaited me for eternity. But then I noticed something; he'd lifted his left leg off the ground. I locked my foot behind his leg and pulled, causing him once again to trip. But the problem remained; I was just buying time that way. It seemed I would eventually have to meet my last moments in this house.

Then I saw a slight irregularity on a desk across from me. A thin glinting...something...It was the sword I'd used to kill Matilde! Neville had been examining it.

I leapt over Neville, who was temporarily on the ground, and a crashed into the desk, unable to slow myself in time. Still, I managed to grab the sword and swiftly turnaround.

Neville was already on his feet, rearing back from another swing. In a smooth, instinctual movement, put my sword out to meet his mace. It hit my sword hard, so hard it nearly caused me to slit my own throat, but I'd managed to block his swing none the less. My hands were enduring an odd prickling sensation, and I was still shaken by the close call, but Neville was disoriented. This was my chance.

I made a swing for his unarmored head. Success. Neville grasped his throat with a look of over-powering anguish. I watched justice take its course, doing its best at the hard task of repaying him for 20 years in the Legion with less than a day in this house, before he tumbled to the ground. His head finally laid to rest on the elegant carpet.

I realized what I mess this had made of the fine house. Then I noticed the cold sweat and heart beat that had built up inside me during the battle as my mind drifted out of combat mode. It had been a very close call. I'd almost forgotten what true fear felt like. It might be time I devoted some of the hours I spent in the sanctuary with boredom and self-pity to studying some defensive spells. Not necessarily destruction, but illusion.

However, the bodies of Primo and Dovesi soon caught my attention as well, lying still with a certainty of death itself. Their last moments had captivated my thoughts. I stood there, entranced in reflection, their last moments running through my mind again and again. Had they both saved my life, and sacrificed their own in the process intentionally?

Suddenly an immense pity came over me. Had they died true heros, which, ironically, meant they died with no intention of recognition and got none? That was brutal cruelty of the way a courageous soul with a devotion to justice worked. It was nearly impossible, painful even, to imagine making such a decision, yet they did. I wondered if I could have made such a decision. My first thought was a solid "No.", but I soon knew the only thing I could allow myself to think was "yes". For a flash, I hated it all. What if my superiors had been wrong about those two deserving death? Would I need to burden myself with their decisions as well as their tasks? Analyze the world every second of the day? It seemed utterly hellish.

I was surprised at how quickly all that had come to me at once: But I had to ignore the painful epiphany. My thoughts had no doubt gotten disordered from the time I spent outside my safe haven, the sanctuary. I would need to shun these thoughts, as they might all sort themselves out, and seem like a simple fever dream later. Yes, that faith was beautiful. But why did everything suddenly seem so...unstable? Was my mind haunted and tormented by **Goes-in-heavy**'s ghost? Maybe. I needed to shun these thoughts.

I had succeeded on my mission. I had to trust that the doorman had already sorted out all the details.

A/N: Sorry the Argonian Royal Court hasn't gotten much attention recently. Her buddies back home will start showing up in the story again soon enough. Anyway, the plot should really start to pick up soon, as we get closer to the end, when I'll begin taking a lot of liberties again.


	26. Lucien's visit

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 3, 4E1

(**Surveys-from-above**) Cheydinhal, near Lucien's sanctuary:

* * *

Much to my surprise, there was a shadowy figure emerging from the woods; It was Lucien Lachance himself. He was heading from the Western forests towards Cheydinhal. 

It all seemed so...unreal. He had been a mentor to us since before I was born, and now I was being told to spy on him. But everything was different now, including the landscape around me. These last few days had been fraught with wonder, in almost overwhelming quantities.

I was instructed to infiltrate Lucien's sanctuary, but now I wasn't so sure now would be a good time. Lucien seemed to be heading to Cheydinhal, but I had no idea when he'd get back, and I was told I wanted to make absolutely sure I wasn't seen, let alone caught.

I decided to stay back, but I couldn't feel secure with any plan. I felt like I was dealing with higher forces here, which I wasn't trained to outmaneuver or outsmart. It seemed like my life had been taken to a whole new level before I was ready to go there.

I had to strain my eyes further and further to see Lucien in the dark covering the wilderness. I strained my eyes to a point where the dark looked like dully colored fuzz, but I couldn't see him. Now I wished I'd studied illusion magic.

The massive gates to the city opened, releasing light on the nearby ground, but still I saw nothing. Lucien was perfectly invisible. He was a Shadow as well, and had been practicing since before I was born.

Since **Learns-fast** had told me to be "**cautious above all**", I decided the best course of action was to walk around the astoundingly large city wall, enter through the stable gate, and tell him what I'd seen. Any bit of information was an accomplishment.

So much was happening all at once my life in Argonia seemed fogged like a dream I'd woken up from long ago. I knew I was living a rare kind of life, even for a Shadowscale. None of my fellows had ever come to Cyrodiil prematurely before.

(Mathieu Bellamont) Cheydinhal's Abandoned House:

* * *

I was feeling an unexplainable fear as I crept closer to the stairs. It wasn't fear of getting caught; I knew this sanctuary and the habits of its occupants inside-out. It was, for some reason, a fear of my older journal. I dreaded looking back on the words that might have been seen by others. I hoped every day that those pages were never read, and never entered into the memories of anyone else; When ever it came into my mind it was always a source of fear, but now the fear was so much more intense. Now, when I had the chance to change something about it, I felt a strong urge to just forget about it entirely. But I had to fight that urge. 

When I made it to the top of the stairs, I turned to see the drawers I had stored it in. The fear was growing as my hand pulled out the very drawer it should have been in. There was a moment of suspense, wondering if it might be gone, which would mean something truly awful.

But it was right where I left it, seemingly untouched. The Dark Brotherhood had never used the attic for anything. I could feel the tension quickly float away. It was possible no one saw it. _Possible._

But despite the relief, I still felt sickeningly nervous to look back on those words: the anguish and childish sense of vulnerability persisted. I hesitated to open it. I was so foolish back then. It would be painful to look back on such things, yet I'd need to reread it eventually. Otherwise it would defeat the journal's purpose.

I felt a flicker of courage and decided to act on it.

I slowly opened it to the first page, dreading the fact that I'd be bringing myself back to a world I wanted to forget.

I forced myself to read the text:

_They all trust me. They all treat me as any other member of the family. I have confirmed this. I have listened into their conversations when they were unaware. I must continue to monitor this trust. I must write on this subject regularly, so I will know with certainty if their trust fluxuates. Once I understand their trust, I can control it. I must never forget that if I am to succeed. Remember this._

Yet I almost didn't recognize the voice of young Bellamont. It sounded surprisingly...collected. I'd expected childish stupidity and incoherence. And even more importantly it was pleasingly vague. It didn't make my identity obvious. _Was this the constant source of tension and worry?_

But before I could reflect further, I heard the door to the sanctuary creak opened. Out of reflex I dropped the book as the startle sent an unpleasant jolt through me. The book hit the floor with a perfectly audible thud. I felt my physical being go numb as I realized the horror of what was happening. It made no sense, but it was happening. Someone had arrived in the sanctuary.

Whoever entered immediately began to dash up the stairs, mercilessly intent on apprehending the intruder. But the area was full of shadows and I quickly found a shadowy corner which I hoped would be adequate. I could feel my heart pounding, and an odd pulse between my chin and lower lip. I tried to hold still, doing my best to abate some pointless but seemingly inevitable movements.

Lucien Lachance himself emerged from the lower floor. The hate came back to me. The urge to destroy that infuriatingly smug face began to flow through me.

But Lucien wasn't as collected as usual. His face seemed stern, almost as if he found the situation genuinely challenging to analyze. _This is my chance._ _I can kill him right now_. _The rest of the sanctuary will never know who did it._ The hate, the exhilaration, and the confidence came back. But I'd felt these things before, and that was when I'd made the mistake with Blanchard. I needed to suppress the rage, even when it suppressed everything else in _me._ _Or do I?_ It was hard to truly answer myself when I saw an opportunity so rare and precious paired with the loathable face of my enemy.

I stood as still as possible, despite emerging aches, as Lucien inspected the room. He stared right through me as he looked unto my shadowy corner. I could kill him, but I knew, in the unlikely event I was found out, it would cost me my entire mission. I couldn't act against an enemy until I'd been in their shoes.

Then he kneeled down gently, not breaking the sacred silence, and picked up the book I had dropped, my diary.

A wave of intense heat came over me, followed by an odd tingling sensation that seemed to be pushing from the inside-out. He flipped through the diary, containing my naked soul. An intense wave of heat came over me. His face looked almost angry, but only in the slightest. He closed the book and it vanished into this robes, likely stuffed in an unseen pocket.

Then he turned to leave, trotting down the steps.

My mind began to rush. _Who will he inform? When will he read the whole thing?_

Finally I heard the door to the basement creak open.

I had been holding my breath in his presence for the most part, and my chest felt like it would implode. I took a deep breath. The cold air swept down my throat.

I was now thoroughly humiliated. I was a fool, I realized, and the consequences might well haunt every hour of my remaining existance. I should have killed him when he was reading my diary, but I'd let my own promises get in my way.

I shifted my faith towards something entirely different. _This is a nightmare, and I'll soon wake up_. But when?

_Never. This is reality._

The journal had indeed been found, but in a sickeningly ironic way.

(**Fights-up-close**): Cheydinhal

* * *

With my late dinner finished, I could feel the cheer build up gradually as I got closer to the sanctuary. It might have been leaving the sanctuary that caused the storm in my head, so I had faith that when I came back everything in my mind would be sorted out, and I'd see things the way I was used to again. 

But, of course, it was hard to entirely convince myself of such an idea. I knew my mind was altering between sanity and insanity repeatedly, but which was which I couldn't yet know.

Either way I liked the feeling of walking through Cheydinhal during the night. The comfort of the shadows, the crickets chirping, the waters of the river lapping subtely against the shore. It was peaceful at this hour. Away from all other people, I could just let my mind drift along, without having to anchor it back in place to make judgements.

I stepped across the bridge, over the moonlit river. As I strolled along I recalled the previous adventures. _What a ride Cyrodiil has been so far_. I had seen the world from so many different angles recently, yet I was always afraid something would come along to shake it up again, finally throwing me off the edges of sanity.

Ahead I could begin to make out the abandoned house. In it was a plethora of warmth, security, and friends I knew I should trust. They would keep my mind in order. Without them, my thoughts would go wild. I needed to remember to trust. Then one day I could find mental security again. Through all this, maybe I'd even learn something to make it worth while. _I'll look on everything with more appreciation, instead of just riding through life mindlessly._

When I made it to the house, I looked behind me as was normal procedure, and, as was normal, saw no one. I decided to use the well this time.

I opened the cold metal hatch, then grabbed the softer, less cold wood of the ladder and made my way down the cramped tunnel into my home.

Once my feet touched the floor I heard walking. It was getting louder. It sounded like it was on the verge of running. I turned to see **Stabber**.

"**Ah, greetings once more Fights-**," She called to me, I noticed she'd been shortening my name recently. It still sounded a bit odd to hear '**Fights-**' in isolation. I turned to her and stared her in the eyes to show solid interest and respect for what she had to say "**When you're ready I have a most important contract waiting for you: one that has been sanctioned by the Black Hand itself.**" Wow. Contracts sure weren't few and far between these days.

"**I'm ready to _hear_ about it, if that's what you mean.**" I responded, figuring I'd be able to wait until morning to begin my journey to whereever the target was.

"**Do you recall the name** Adamus Philida**? The Imperial Legion pest? Its time he joined Sithis in the void. Think you're up for the task?**" Such a widely known and weighted name, and I was being asked to assassinate him? For so long, that man had seemed more like a force than a flesh and blood human-being, so well protected that he never could be touched directly, but now I was hearing that name in a contract briefing? It seemed like hope could be found anywhere. I nodded, but I had to wonder why now, of all times, the Dark Brotherhood had decided to take action.

"Philida** has spent his entire career investigating the Dark Brotherhood. Interrupting our contracts, killing our family members. We tried to eliminate **Philida**, of course, but failed on three separate occasions.** Sergius, Soran, Maria** were all killed in the process. By our third attempt,** Philida** had become so accustomed to dealing with our assassins her death wasn't even reported.**" Ocheeva sighed as I continued to wonder how we'd accomplish the impossible and stab a dagger into Philida's back. "**He's a powerful man, and is surrounded by powerful assossciates.**" She paused, as something began to recharge her spirit. "Philida** must not be allowed such a victory! His destiny is...darker. Now we have an inside source, a very...influential figure who has provided the intelligence we need to eliminate the Legion pig. Philida has been secretly relocated to** Leyawiin** to assist the city in its battle against the** Renrijra Krin. Philida** now resides in the **Leyawiin** city watch barracks: an honored guest of the soldiers there. In fact, he is more vulnerable than ever. Travel to **Leyawiin**, infiltrate the barracks, figure out when he removes that blasted Legion armor.**" _Blasted Legion armor_. I had a feeling Ocheeva had similar experiences "**Kill **Philida** in anyway and the contract is complete, but to earn the bonus you must go beyond murder, you must send a message.**" Ocheeva took a step closer, as if to make absolutely sure I was listening. I continued to stare firmly into her wide eye. It was important to me that she still understood I was willing to help our cause, considering I inadvertently assossciated with traitors. "**They must know we are responsible. You must carve the letters '**D **and** B**' into his chest**."

"**It would be an honor, Stabber**." I replied. Adrenaline filled my body as I imagined his last moments at my hands. All the sudden, I slightly regretted asking about this assignment; I knew I would have a hard time getting to sleep tonight.

As she walked off I continued to reflect on the assignment, walking around aimlessly. It was another emotional spike to further throw me off track, where-ever the track was. _Still, maybe I should give up on the idea of a miraculous enlightenment through relaxation._

There wasn't anything I desired other than to start the contract, but I knew at this hour it would be foolish to journey to Leyawiin. I decided to train until it was time to go to sleep, so hopefully I'd be exhausted enough to fall asleep quickly. I wanted to be unconscious as long as I could before morning.


	27. Fort Leyawiin

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since I released the final chapter of this story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews.

Sun's Height 5 , 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

My horse continued to trot down the path. It was a moist and foggy morning, casting a drab shadow over Cyrodiil and putting a gray mist ahead of wherever I turned. Normally any kind of obstruction of view was good for an assassin, but the visibility levels wouldn't likely make much of a difference in this assignment.

I was now close enough to Leyawiin to see quite a few soldiers standing on top of the city walls through the fog. From what little I could make of their uniforms, they seemed to be members of the Imperial Legion. There were three members of the town guard standing infront of the entrance. Right now, it looked more like a fortress than a town.

I knew I'd have to face a lot of old memories in these swamps and this city. The soft terrain, boggy smell, and humidity were a link to my past.

I'd known these smells in my home for twenty years, twenty years that were better than these months in Cyrodiil. But the swampy climate also reminded me of **Goes-in-heavy**'sdeath. The mix of nostalgia and...guilt, or whatever I felt with his death, made it hard to come back here. I wished I could just forget that bitter day.

As I got closer to the town entrance, I could make out faces in the town guard. I could see a helmetless woman with long, rusty colored hair and a stern look on her face standing in front of two of her likely subordinates. None of the soldiers looked like they enjoyed their posts.

I dismounted from my horse. I realized this side of town probably had _lighter_ security than the Western one, being that it bordered Black Marsh instead of Elswyre.

They opened the Eastern gate for me without saying a word and maintained their dour expressions.

I could feel a sort of tension grip me tightly as I walked into the city, and it wasn't just due to my assignment.

I stepped into the castle courtyard, or garden, or whatever they were calling it. Garden or not, it didn't look as lively as similar areas in some of Cyrodiil's other towns, especially with the drab gray cloud covering the city.

I knew this area well, I'd come through here during my first trip to Cyrodiil, as well as with **Cleaver**, when I...

I stiffened at the difficult memory, my actions coming back to me. The memory squeezed me tightly, punishing me, replaying itself in rapid succession, continuing to punish me until I could mercifully no longer feel the raw brutality of the act come back to me.

I needed to get my mind back on Philida.

Ahead, I could see a guard tower; the city watch was pouring out of the door on the left and others into the door on the right. It occurred to me that was likely the barracks, but I wouldn't want to infiltrate it right yet. It seemed impossible to imagine getting in and out of the barracks undetected.

I decided to walk around the city aimlessly and ponder the kill. I started heading towards the nearest sidewalk. That would provide me with peace for thought without drawing unwanted attention to myself.

I journeyed into my own little world of thought as I walked, imagining various plans of attack and seeing how they made me feel. There was the possibility of simply charging in, hoping to find Philida, and getting out before I was struck down, but that didn't seem very smart.

Then a spark of satisfying enlightenment came to me! A barracks was a place where soldiers slept and ate; there must have been a time when all of those in the barracks were sleeping, as they must spend more time sleeping than eating.

My mind still crisp and capable, I tried to visualize a time line of the soldier's schedules to see where my window of opportunity was.

I guessed there were three shifts, eight hours each. That sounded right. The time between any of the three shifts would have been a time which wouldn't quite work, as soldiers would be awake to move in and out of the barracks. I had just witnessed a shift change, so I knew the next one was coming in about eight hours. But what about eating? When would they be doing that?

No more reasoning built up in my mind. It was like it was stuck. I kept trying to take the thought process a bit further but every venture was a failure. I wished I had brought a piece of paper and a quill so I could draw some kind of timetable that might help the thought process.

As much as I tried to imagine how their time eating would factor into all this, I couldn't think of any good theories. Right now, my thinking was becoming less smooth and more and more tedious. My thoughts didn't seem solid anymore.

Either way, I had no reason to rush. I assumed if I shoved that planning aside briefly, I might see the way deeper into the subject more clearly when I returned. Everyone loved to believe in miraculous healing power of breaks, and I supposed I'd find out if it were real soon enough.

I needed something to do during this break, though. I was afraid of the memories waiting to creep back into my thoughts if I let my mind become idle, given the events this are was host to.

Stopping somewhere for a snack seemed like a good idea, and I realized I had made myself hungry just by thinking about food.

I knew there was a lodge just around the next corner. I was currently walking past one of the poorer sections of Leyawiin, after which I could turn that corner.

Trying to keep my mind clean of thoughts on Philida or the pains of my past, I glanced around the city as I walked.

The loads of various horse-drawn carriages rattled and jingled down the roads. Various Cyrodiillic, Khajiiti, and Argonian faces passed by me as I walked.

I surveyed all corners of the town I could as I walked. There was at least one swimmer in the pool across the street, and the shops seemed to be getting decent business. There were beggars here, like anywhere else, standing around the streets trying to look pathetic with varying degrees of success.

I turned the corner and immediately saw a sign for "The Three Sister's Lodge" ahead of me hanging above the side-walk. I'd been there before, though I tried to fight off any other memories attached to that place.

I headed towards the sign and opened the door below it.

I scraped my shoes against the welcome mat, then began heading towards the bar. I could already smell a variety of aromas coming from that area.

When I made it to that room, the hostess was busy sorting out something in the cabinets, but there was a basket of apples with a sign that read "2 septims". I complied, reaching into my pocket, taking out two pieces of the cold metal, and dropping them on the counter.

I reached into the bowl of fruit and grabbed an apple while one of the coins continued to tremble and move in small circles on the counter.

I decided to find a table to sit at; I didn't want to worry about making conversation with the hostess. If inspiration for my plan to kill Philida struck, I might find myself in an immersive yet fragile stream of thought.

I walked over to one of the tables closer to the entrance and sat down.

Before I took a bite of the apple two thoughts crossed my mind: I wondered if Philida would ever come out of that barracks, as it was hard to imagine someone staying cooped up in that small tower for his whole stay, and I wondered if I might be able to manipulate the Imperial fear-mongering of the Renrijdra Krin in this region towards my favor during this assignment. Both questions seemed vaguely promising.

I supposed I'd been right: after taking a very short pause in my thoughts on the subject of Philida; my mind was already flooding with ideas.

I bit into the apple.

Then I noticed a copy of the Black Horse Courier sitting perpendicular to my line of sight. I decided I might as well read it while I ate. If I was lucky, and the story was relevant to this district, it might give me a better idea of the circumstances at my disposal.

I put my hand on top of the paper and pulled it across the table, then flipped it ninety degrees so I could read it:

_**Tragic Accident Reveals Structural Instabilities Throughout Bruma!**_

Nephew inherits estate

_For the residents of Bruma, a city known for its snowy avenues and frigid, Skyrim-like temperatures, nothing is quite as important as the warmth and safety of one's own home. But even the most secure dwelling can harbor a deadly secret. In the case of Baenlin, an elderly Elf nobleman who had called Bruma home for nearly forty-three years, death came not from the icy cold, nor from the sting of a burglar's blade, but from a killer far more insidious -- structural instability. _

_According to Gromm, Baenlin's longtime live-in manservant, the day of his master's death was like any other. Baenlin lived as a recluse, and rarely left the comfort of his home. He spent his morning breakfasting, and his afternoons reading or napping, but it was in the late evening hours before bedtime, when Baenlin relaxed in his favorite chair as was his custom, when disaster struck. A stuffed Minotaur head mounted on the wall directly over the chair came crashing down, killing the unsuspecting noble instantly. _

_As horrible as Baenlin's death may seem, even more horrible is the revelation that this was not an isolated incident, as previously thought. In fact, through a series of interviews and an in-depth investigation, the Black Horse Courier has learned that many of Bruma's homes are actually deathtraps waiting to spring. _

_"Me and my boys, we done repair work on half these houses. They're a bleedin' mess! Rotted wood, rusty nails, misaligned foundations. Them Nords, they're good for drinkin' and killin', but they can't build a house worth a damn!" _

_So said Antoine Dubois, owner of Dubois and Sons Carpentry, a thriving house-building business headquartered in the Breton nation of High Rock. Because of his expertise, Dubois has been known to offer his services throughout the Empire, and has visited Bruma on numerous occasions. In his opinion, this predominantly Nord city features some of the most poorly-constructed dwellings in all the Empire. _

_"Yeah, I know what the Nords say. It's the snow! It's rots the wood, it does this, it does that. Whine, whine, whine! The mead-swillin' savages wouldn't know oakwood from oranges. Truth is, they just don't know anything about the latest architectural methods. The work is unsafe and sloppy. That head that fell on the Elf? An infant could've secured those bindings better! It's no wonder they came loose! But I've seen this type of thing all over Bruma. Did you know that until I came in to do repair work on the roof, you couldn't attend a service in the Chapel without getting snowed on? Now that's just wrong." _

_When asked what he thought of the issues, Baenlin's nephew, Caenlin, who inherited his uncle's estate and is now residing in the very house where he was killed, had this to say: _

_"It was a tragic, tragic accident. I always told my poor uncle that head would fall on him some day, but would he listen? Now, I've heard the rumors that some think there was foul play involved, but that's nonsense, of course. Everybody knows this city is falling apart. It could have happened to anyone." _

_And so, as the city of Bruma mourns the loss of one of its oldest and most respected residents, there are those who can't help but wonder -- am I next? _

I could feel a sinking sensation after stumbling on that article, because upon reading of Caenlin, an insidious idea of the motive behind that contract began to creep into my head. Just when things were starting to look up, my day was sullied once more.

I no longer felt hungry. Old worries were creeping up again. These ominous signs of truth to **Goes-in-heavy**'s words seemed to be popping up everywhere.

_Should that effect my decision now?_ _No, Philida's an Imperial Legion commander. They're never innocent. Forget about your theories on that contract for now. Think about your plan for this assassination first._

That realization caused the article to lose a bit of its power over me, but the drop had disoriented me slightly. I didn't remember where I'd left off in my plans for Philida. I hadn't fully disentangled my mind from that article yet.

It saddened me to find myself once again wondering about the truth of the "Scar-tail's" words, that perhaps our contracts were motivated by greed. But I couldn't try to explore the possibilities now; those kind of cynical thoughts were addictive and Baenlin was irrelevant right now. I had to tare myself away from those thoughts.

I tried harder and harder to recall where my plans for Philida had left off.


	28. Learning and Forgetting

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the last chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 5, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

The fog had cleared up, and light was shining down on the town, making it look a lot more colorful and lively, as well as casting a pleasant warmth over me. Still, the hardest part of the day had only begun. 

Though it had taken me quite a while to think of the plan for the kill, the spark of enlightenment had eventually come during my walks around Leyawiin. I just needed to listen closely enough to make out when the soldiers were eating, then enter as soon as they all left. Right now, I could hear the clanging of silverware and voices muffled and mixed into one indistinct blob of chatter. My eyes were on the garden adjacent to one of the towering courtyard walls, my hands were on the stone-wall that encased it, but my mind was on those eating behind me.

Right now, I was just waiting near the guard tower, looking into a section garden and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, hoping I'd remain unnoticed. I had a cover-story, though: I had a friend in the town guard I needed to talk to. Being covered in scales didn't really help the believability of that kind of story here in Leyawiin, but it was the best I could think of. Thankfully, there were no guards stationed near the castle. The people who would usually be guarding the castle entrance from within were now outside the city gates, guarding the town from foreign threats.

An ache was building up in my neck from looking down so much, trying to avoid eye contact. I threw my head back, causing some subtle cracks, but somewhat to my frustration there was not much relief.

I reckoned I'd been standing in one spot, leaning on the stone wall for over an hour. But that didn't bore me. Already I had plenty I needed to think about. I was still trying to polish up my plan. Trying, unfortunately, was the key word. Any progress I'd made in my plan came slowly. Other, excess, thoughts seemed to be moving through my head much more rapidly.

Though it seemed _possible_ to get in and out of the barracks undetected, I knew it would be difficult. Now that the soldiers were actually eating in there, meaning they'd soon leave and I'd need to go in and find Philida, I was beginning to feel hints of fear. Still, I knew I had to get on with this plan eventually. After all, I didn't want to lose track of the shifts, and we didn't know how long Philida would be conducting operations in Leyawiin.

I heard the door behind me open, releasing a storm of clanging silverware and conversation into the air outside, then close. Foot steps and the jingling of chain-mail followed as one soldier exited the barracks. Soon enough, his foot steps began mixing with the hustle and bustle of the civilian areas to the West.

I tried to harden myself and push fear aside as I knew I would soon infiltrate the barracks and begin my mission. I recalled their names: Sergius, Soran, Maria. They all risked their lives to put fear in the hearts of Tamriel's cowards and were slain by a man who pretended to be fighting for the same cause. My breathing got heavy.

His legion had stomped on the land of other provinces for centuries, with only the Argonian Royal Court brave enough to stand against them from the beginning, even if it was in secret. My tail twitched at the thought.

I was starting to feel hotter. The rage at Philida was returning. A new energy was fueling me. Fear was fading. I was about to put an end to Philida, employing my art in one of the most important works ever.

I could hear the door open and close once more as another soldier I could only imagine walked out of the barracks. I was getting closer to my chance to unleash the fury and power of Sithis onto Philida. And closer to the potential of my own pain and death.

There was a battle in my head between fear and anger, and the frontline was moving unpredictably.

I hated his Legion's arbitrary laws and bullying of the other provinces. Yet at the same time, this assignment required me to enter a single room that house who-knew how many soldiers with virtually no chance of escape if I was spotted.

My mind seemed to be receiving more reasons why this assignment would be a bad idea. I was inside enemy territory with only two exits, both of which were well-guarded, and my target would among countless, albeit sleeping, soldiers. A subtle exit out of Leyawiin was outright impossible, and if I woke up anyone in the barracks, I'd have to deal with a huge portion of the town guard. Did this plan need further thought to be reasonably safe? Rushing never did an assassin any good. _Maybe I should continue to think about this plan and come up with greater precision and more failsafes._

The door opened once again, only this time I heard less chatter, less clanging silverware, and more footsteps. I kept my eyes on the garden, hoping not to be noticed, but carefully tried to figure out how many soldiers had just exited the barracks.

Four ultimately passed by me before they faded into the crowd.

It was happening faster than I expected.

For the first time, I glanced back at the section of the city perimeter behind me. The Legion archers were still stationed behind the turrets of the castle walls. They still weren't facing me, but they'd certainly make escape more difficult. The tension inside me was slowly coming back now, even as my numb and motivated self tried to swat it away. I began feeling oddly figety as fear began to wrap itself tightly around me.

I could hear the door open again, but this time the noise of the door opening wasn't accompanied with chatter and clanging silverware.

Those were the last soldiers. Two of them. That totalled to eight, the same amount I'd seen enter that barracks. They would go back to patrolling the vast city unaware they'd just made way for the death of one Tamriel's most infamous people...or for me.

Now the path to Philida was clear.

Still, if they'd just left, wouldn't it mean I could take a bit more time to plan? I wondered if I should think until my plan was smart enough for the fear to fade? Or should I accept that this assignment needed to be intimidating, and simply break through my emotional barriers? That was a task I would need to get used to if I were to conduct myself like every Shadowscale should. Right now, as I was trying to decide between the two options, I was doing neither. I got a nagging sensation that each moment could be me violating the sacred code of unbroken loyalty to the cause I'd promised to, at least for now, live my life by. That would be, by extension, intentional wrong-doing.

I latched onto the idea that I should simply endure the fear, and turned around to face the door to the barracks.

I pushed myself forward almost robotically as my internal argument continued, trying to find some excuse to listen to my fear. But I found no excuse and needed to keep pushing forward.

I set foot on the stone steps.

Then that crushing feeling I'd felt at Summitmist manor came again. Working against this fear was heroism, and just like cold-hard logic told me I should, I hated it. Pain was a component of heroism. No seperation between the two was possible. I would be living this way, punished for anything noble, until I died, which I had to prevent at all cost. That truth stabbed me deeper than any blade could.

I put my hand on the handle of the barracks door and paused.

But what was I waiting for? A second of inspirational anger?

Many emotions were weighing me down or pushing me back, but I had to continue, and all I could do was hope for another epiphany to get rid of those emotions.

_My superiors wouldn't send me on a mission they weren't confident I could confident I could come back from. They need me._ That logic provided me with a moment of comfort.

_Or would they? Three of your fellows died on this assignment._

Which soon was countered with another sinking sensation.

Did everyone in the Dark Brotherhood feel this way when they were called upon for a dangerous mission? Something inside me didn't want company. I didn't want to believe anyone else lived with this kind of natural injustice.

I noticed what was happening. I was questioning everything. The wound left by **Goes-in-heavy's** defection had been bandaged briefly, but had never healed. That bandaged had been ripped off by feelings of fear and now my confidence was bleeding out. Now I was enduring an endless volley of questions, each question harder to answer than the last. It was distracting me, and ripping the world I knew apart.

_This is why you have to trust your superiours. You could never decide everything for yourself._

_But what if I am uncovering something?_

The questions continued to play in my mind, grinding at everything I'd ever come to believe.

I had to cease these thoughts, I'd already decided I was going to head into the barracks without hesitation. One more second would be damnable weakness.

I slowly opened the barracks door, a process which was relatively smooth and creakless. Slowly, a semi-circular room with a stair case and two doors ahead of me was being revealed. I could see the table where the soldiers had been eating out of the corner of my left eye.

I tried to keep my mind on my mission. I needed to think about the choices I'd make in order to remain undetected, not dissect every sane belief I'd ever held. So far, I'd gotten through the first door without waking the soldiers up, so I assumed I could get through the second door as well. But was focusing on this mission really more important than the debate of universally applicable philosophy in my head?

I hated all these thoughts. I couldn't contain them. I couldn't hold them. I was forced to question every iota of the world now. It seemed frustratingly ridiculous to ask if I should focus on mission I was conducting this very second, yet I couldn't think of a reason why I really _should_ focus on killing Philida.

_If you're not thinking about the mission, your life is at stake. No matter what you realize while thinking about anything else, it won't matter if you're dead._

That provided me with relief. I just had to hope that epiphany didn't find its inverse.

I noticed one door had a lock attached to it in a rather make-shift looking way. I had a feeling that was where Philida was. I unsheathed my dagger, withdrawing it slowly and carefully, paying attention to every iota of noise it might generate.

Then, paying careful attention to pressure and friction to make sure not to add to the noise of the snoring soldiers above me, I crept towards the locked door. So far, so good. I just had to keep focus.

The words of the Black Horse Courier article were starting to drip into my mind again, but I tried to fight them off. I tried to restate my mission again and again to do so.

_I'm going to kill Philida. I'm going to kill Philida. I'm going to kill Philida._

I reached for a lock pick, careful to make sure it didn't scrape against anything unnecessarily. Then I stuck it in the key hole and began picking the lock with my left hand while my dagger remained in my right. Picking the lock with my left hand meant it didn't go as smoothly as usual, but I had to keep my weapon at bare because this could situation could transform from quiet and contained to loud and chaotic within a couple of second of a typical assassin's error.

I could hear **Goes-in-heavy's **words again briefly, but I tried to fight them off. I needed to focus on my mission.

_I'm going to kill Philida. I'm going to kill Philida. I'm going to kill Philida._

Then the satisfying click came, and I slowly began to open the door, going numb as I made a silent prayer to Sithis the door wouldn't creak. It didn't, but there was a more unsettling sight. Philida was not in his bed.

He was at a desk very close to the door, sitting.

He quickly stood up, and I saw the chair he was sitting on fall back, crashing to the floor with a noise that was sure to wake all the soldiers up. It sent a surge of alarm through my body. I felt like my viens nearly burst.

I swiftly charged into the room. Philida, unarmed and unarmored, interrupted from his paper work, probably hadn't quite processed it all yet. What dregs of the element of surprise remained would be my life-saver here.

I heartily stabbed my knife into his chest. He released a blood curdling scream. On this rare occasion, that didn't matter. The troops were no doubt up already. I removed the knife.

I knew I was right about waking the soldiers up, because already I heard a set of feet pounding down the stairs.

When I turned to look at the doorway I saw there was a woman, unarmored, her hair frizzy making it evident she'd just woken, poised to attack with her sword.

I tucked my tail and did a forward role passed the guard while keeping my form as compact as possible.

The top of my head painfully pressing against the wooden floor for half a second, I managed to find myself once again on my feet, this time at the door to the barracks exit. I flung it opened.

Pushing every bit of energy into my legs I began running. I jumped over the stone wall that contained the garden and hit the ground with a roll. My scales and clothing immediately began mingling with the soft dirt, but I didn't mind at a time like this.

I lied flat, turning my head sideways to meet the cold dirt and nearly stopped breathing altogether as I pushed the Shadow's energy to the surface. I could hear the guards getting closer.

Then there was silence. As best I could guess the woman I'd evaded was curiously inspecting the garden I'd just dived into, wondering why she couldn't see me. The fact that I was a Shadow wouldn't be enough of an explaination for her, because few Shadows could pull of what a Shadow_scale_ could. Maybe that would save me, but I didn't dare to so much as move my eyes which had, just by chance, managed to be focusing on an unusually long blade of grass.

I needed to stay as still as death, a task which was difficult for a lot of reasons. My abdomen was pressed against the ground but the urge to take a deep breath began building up as I waited. I tried to imagine what was happening up there and what she was thinking. _What tactics might she use? If she decides to enter the garden to look for me, that will probably be my end._ It made me sickeningly nervous.

I could feel my heart pound against the soft earth below.

Soon, however, she came to a silent decision. Well, she _made _the decision silently, but what she'd decided to do was far from silent. I could hear her running towards the gate and yelling "Help! Captain Philida has been killed!"

Accepting exactly how dirty this would make me, I rolled into a more comfortable position. I could hear the Eastern gate open, then heard another female voice, stern and professional, clearly a high-ranking member of the town guard, in the distance say "You! Alert the adjacent posts! Lavina, tell us what you saw!"

"Someone killed Philida! She was in the barracks! An Argonian woman! Its like she just dissapeared!" How much about me were the guards really able to notice? I had to hope she couldn't provide a more detailed description when things started to cool down.

There was some more chatter after that, but it was quiet and hard to understand. As hard as I tried to listen, I couldn't make it out.

Waves of dread came over me as I wracked my brain for some way that to ever come out this garden that wouldn't set the guards after me.

I had no idea what I should do now. I needed time to think, and better concealment to do so. Careful not to have any part of my body higher than the stone wall, I crawled to a place within the garden that could provide better concealment.

There were two bushes in the garden, which together formed a small half-tunnel between them I could use as a shelter from the Imperial eye. Crawling with my knees and elbows, touching my tail to the dirt, I made my way between the bushes.

I laid perfectly still in the odd little refuge Sithis had provided me and tried to imagine a solution. I would have to climb back over the garden wall to get out either way and chances were one of the countless troops out there would be facing my way and see me. I couldn't rely on my Shadow powers again, since I'd need a good night sleep to recharge the energy.

My heart was pounding as I pressed myself against the dirt. _Had I been right all along? Had this assignment truly been too dangerous?_

Just for a few seconds, I tried to imagine everything was alright for the high it would give me. There were a few seconds of bliss, but the truth hurt.

I could hear feet going in all different directions, followed by an older sounding male voice say "Alright, fan out, check the area." It sounded like they planned to split up to cover the whole town. I knew a world of strategy and determination was in the heads of my enemies at the moment; no doubt tracking down the person who killed Philida wasn't something they'd take lightly.

I knew where I went wrong. Maybe if I hadn't been so distracted and thought to use that mysticism spell I'd learned, I could have timed my entrance into Philida's office better. But it was too late to change that. I could only feel bitter about my failure to think of that idea before.

But I realized right now seemed like a good time for that spell too.

I cleared my mind and tried to focus on no particular object. The world began getting fuzzy. Small patches of colored shading began to emerge in my vision until they formed into distinct indications of life. Seeing their sheer numbers and intelligent placement, I knew I could only lie in wait and hope for a distraction if I were to escape.


	29. Diversion

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

I had learned to make myself comfortable during the time I'd spent under those bushes, observing the leaves and sticks at a micro-level while listening to the nearby noises. I had no way of telling how long I'd waited, but since the sun was still bright, and not yet casting a golden light, I thought it was safe to assume it hadn't been more than 4 hours. I shifted my head around repeatedly, because once it stayed in one position to long my neck began to hurt. I listened to every little whir and cry the world had to offer, and heard the sound of various carts moving now and then. Yet of all the sounds I'd heard, none indicated it would be safe to step out of the garden

Then there was a hope. I heard a very distinctive noise. It was something coming from the direction of the Eastern wall. It sounded like a heavy objecting hitting and then scraping against the stone. It happened in four very close succession. "Up there! We've got a perimeter breach!" one soldier yelled. That was the first time I was genuinely glad to hear those kinds of words.

"Fetchers!" An older voice said "We should never have left the our perimeter unguarded! It's the Krin up there!" Making no qualms about letting his frustration seep into his voice. This was my diversion! I just needed to figure out exactly what was happening.

I could hear the heavy zip of arrows flying through the air and the sound of them hitting various surfaces, emphasizing the solid and deadly force the inventions carried. It didn't take a battle-hardened warrior to figure out how brutal an arrow could be against bare flesh, so I was still reluctant to throw myself anywhere near the cross-fire. None the less, two factions fighting against each other in a contest of death and survival was a helpful diversion even after it was over.

The older voice shouted again amid the franticness of this new battlefield "Cellonus! You alert the others!" The passion, the relevance of every move, it all meant one thing; An excellent distraction. The Renrijdra Krin might come in even more use than I originally suspected. Their fears and concentration was on the Renrijdra Krin now.

I could hear the sound of more objects colliding with and then scraping against the stone wall. Arrows continued to fly from both sides and continued to hit all types of surfaces. It was hard to imagine how the Renrijdra Krin planned to score a hit through that annoying Legion armor but, then again, if they peppered an area with arrows for long enough you could do just about anything.

I could hear a few screams now and then, maybe of pain, fear, or surprise, but I knew this battle going on for a significant amount of time. The rebels had the advantage of cover and height, but the Legionaries had their armor. Even matches always lasted the longest. By now I was sure apprehending one murder seemed nearly irrelevant to them. Still, I didn't expect them to ignore me if I walked right into their crowd.

I could now hear the sounds of more clanking metal feet coming from the inner area of the town to assist with the battle.

"Are you all the back-up we've got?" the older Legionary managed to find time to say between dodging and firing arrows. I wasn't sure exactly what he meant.

"There are others occupied at the West gate, sir. We can't spare them here." A younger voice said. I could detect a hint of fear. I knew what this meant. All of the town guard no doubt had their hands full, but they'd be stationed at both gates. I wished I'd brought a grapple hook of my own for this assignment.

"Well charge up there and try to clear them from the turrets. We'll stay down here and keep 'em busy." The older voice yelled. I could hear the younger set of feet immediately spring into action. In a battle like this, you'd need to know how to use every iota of time and space Sithis had granted you.

Then I realized this was the best opportunity to leave the garden. I needed to do it before the crossfire ceased. My willpower instantly burst through any reservations.

I used my arms to pull myself across the ground from under the bushes where I might be able to stand up again. Once I was standing I immediately got over the garden wall and, paying attention to every second and every woosh, ran. I felt a twitchy sensation build up during the short time I spent sprinting, pushing my legs to their outer limits. But right now, even the outer limits seemed oppressively slow.

By I made my way behind the wall between the castle courtyard and the rest of the city I felt like I was ready to burst. I waited a more suspenseful seconds to see if anyone followed me, but no one did. There was a blissful satisfaction from getting out of that garden unharmed. I pulled myself over another stone wall, into an area by the side of a swimming pool, and sat down. The plants that grew near the water concealed me. Nature was certainly my friend during this assignment.

I allowed myself a few seconds to settle down before thinking again. My body was quivering with the adrenaline of the moment. I was filled with all sorts of passions, and I could feel my skin turn icy cold with every breeze. The uncertainty of the situation had drenched me in sweat.

Right now the only thing I could do is retrieve the items I'd brought with me from the Three Sisters Lodge. Then I could change my clothes, and wait for this battle to blow over. I just had to hope that would be enough to get past the guards without being arrested for murder. But were the Renrijdra Krin guaranteed to lose?

I was filled with all sorts of weird emotions for practically starting a Renrijdra Krin invasion in Leyawiin. The whole city would no doubt change around me. My problems were now taking on an epic scale. It was a lot to take in all at once. I almost wished I could go back to before I made the decision to enter the barracks.


	30. Unexpected Escape

A/N: Special thanks to nightdragon0 for the ideas he gave me for. Her new escape plan is much better than what I originally had planned. Anyway, about the Renridjra Krin: I can't provide links to my sources on this site (or any url as far as I know), but they are a bit more than a group of bandits (at least they claim to be). They were organized to get back the land that was taken from Elswyre by the Elder Council.

I figured I'd release just these two chapters. Not much story progression takes place, but it provides an oppritunity for me to get any last minute advice before the Purification.

Sun's Height 5, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin, Three Sisters Lodge

* * *

I was sitting on the bed. I felt like I needed a break more than anything else. I just wanted my mind to be silent. The last several minutes had felt so long and coarse. In truth, escaping Leyawiin, if the guards could identify me, would be far harder than escaping Fort Swampmoth had been. Right now the stress of the situation seemed to be building up inside me to the point where I felt sick. My tail twitched as I thought about the dangers around me. If the guards did catch me, I was sort of hoping I'd be executed. At least that would mean I'd never need to worry like this again when I tried to escape prison. Of course, it was my duty to fight that at all costs. 

I noticed I'd involuntarily scratched deep into one of the bed posts. A pretty significant way to mar an expensive bed, but I had more pressing concerns to worry about. Ironically, this "break" seemed to be making my anxiety more prevalent. If I couldn't relax, I decided I might as well do something productive. I could still hear fighting outside. Maybe I could scout out the area a bit more carefully, just incase of emergencies. If I was going to do that, it would best be when the guards were still distracted.

I lifted myself from the bed. I would be glad to have something else to concentrate, and block out the nervous thoughts that kept tormenting me.

I walked towards the door and unlocked it. Who knew the amount of damage the Renrijdra Krin could do? But how should I feel about that? While Lady Leyawiin wasn't a very savory character, I didn't know much about the Renridjra Krin. I knew they were my enemy's enemy, and that they wanted the land the Elder Council took from them back, but that was about it. Then again, Elswyre wasn't a topic **Learns-fast** would have approve me getting taught about. It very rare for a Shadowscale to learn anything about a province she or he wouldn't be transferred to. I stepped onto the balcony and turned towards the stone steps.

As I trotted down the stone steps I realized I had to stop reflecting so much. I had an excuse to stop. I continued walking, but the thoughts seemed to be taunting me, guilting me even, for ignoring them. I didn't like the idea of constraining my own mind, but I knew worrying would do me no good at this point.

I made it to the bottom floor and headed for the door. I stepped outside, continuing to try to lock out all the uncertainties in my head, and keep my focus nearly uncontaminated by anything other than there and then. I did my best to focus on little details of my surroundings. I tried to identify every object I saw as I continued down the stone side-walk, just to keep my mind from eating away at itself. I recited little pieces of information: _This is Leyawiin's rich district. The houses here are big. _Fortunately, it seemed the longer I kept the thoughts at bay, the easier it became. I turned a corner. _This is the area behind the Three Sisters Lodge. There are many gardens here. _I realized I was getting closer to the gates, the area I was trying not to think about. There was a twitch in the back of my mind, telling me there was something I could uncover through these thoughts. Was I being insubordinate by ignoring these thoughts? Obviously this situation warranted the emotions I was feeling. Tension began to creep up on me as I thought about it that way. _No_ I told myself, _I've already concluded I was accomplishing nothing by worrying_. But when exactly did I figure that out?

It was happening again, the questions were coming, faster and faster each time, and it was progressively harder to answer them. _You can't make a decision without information, concentrate on what you see, think later_. And with that I did my best to shut out the cynicism in my head. I knew I couldn't fall for the...temptation to bring the voices back. But was it temptation? I certainly didn't find all that thinking pleasant, but when I shut them out, I felt trapped. I felt like a simple-minded animal.

By the time I came back to reality, I found I had just made my way to comparatively low-class area of town. The houses here were smaller and the side-walks were wooden. It reminded me a bit of Gideon for some reason. All the sudden I was nostalgic for my care-free days as a Shadowscale, when life seemed like a gift from Sithis, instead of a duty. Now it seemed uncertainty and bitterness were almost the only two emotions I felt. The other family members must have seen that too; I knew I'd been keeping to myself more than usual since the incident of the renegade Shadowscale. I no longer shared my fears, dreams, or wonders with other family members. Things back the sanctuary were starting to feel more business-like. _Stop it, you're thinking again_. _This is the time observe._ I told myself.

I crossed between two houses heading towards the swimming pool, and therefore closer to the Eastern wall where the fighting was occurring. Then I stopped as I noticed something intriguing. The swimming pool was empty, but I no longer heard the sounds of battle. I could still hear chatter coming from that area, but no longer heard the whooshing of arrows and various noises of impact. Curious, I began walking closer to hear what they were conversing about now that the battle seemed to be over.

The words weren't crystal clear, but I thought I heard "healer", "other gate" and "assassin". Assassin. That word certainly wasn't a good omen. Only shortly afterwards I could hear the sounds of chain-mail armor. I knew at least one guard was headed my way, and I could tell some serious problems might come about. Two members of the Leyawiin guard came into view. I only saw the uniforms for flash before I panicked and went with the first idea that came into my mind. I jumped into the pool nearby, submerging myself into the other worldly realm of under-water causing the input from almost all my senses to change completely. Of course, my clothing was now wet, but that was the least of my concerns.

Being underwater severed almost all contact I had with the world above, so I had no idea what the guards were doing. Still, I noticed something promising submerged on the side of the pool. A drain. There was a grating on it, but it looked like something I might be able to squeeze through. At this moment the tension seems to float a way. Escaping through the drain seemed like a solid plan.

I swam towards the drain. Once I was near, I tried to reorient myself in a position that would most likely fit through. I turned on my side and put my head on my left shoulder, then began pushing forward. My upper half made it through with ease, not touching the metal. Getting my tail through was a challenge, however. I tried to claw at the unseen surface of the pipe to get more pulling force. I knew I was making progress, but very slow progress, and there was a burning sensation on my tail as I tried to fit it between the back of my legs and the metal. Even so, I struggled viciously to pull myself all the way through. I hadn't heard anyone else submerge themselves yet, but until I was all the way through I was almost completely helpless.

Freedom. I was finally through the grating. I wasn't out of Leyawiin yet, but I doubted anyone on the city watch would try the same feat. In my head, I was singing and dancing with joy, but on the exterior, I was staying collected.

The tunnel ahead was nothing but darkness. It was so dark it made no difference if my eyes were opened or close. I'd heard that phrase quite a bit, but up until then I didn't think it could be all that accurate. I just had my sense of touch to go on in order to proceed forward. All the sudden, the idea of the void seemed far less appealing. I swam forward none the less, but I had no idea if I was making progress, or what was a head of me. All I could feel was water and the sensation of occasionally brushing up against rusty metal. I knew no one would try to assure my safety doing something like this, and my mind was rushing with all the bizarre ways and horrific ways this could go wrong. It wasn't like any other dangerous situation I had been in. All I could do was hope that this frightening journey would be over soon.

Fortunately, it was; I saw light at the end of the tunnel. Literally.

I exited the drain into Topal Bay, a body of water that seemed so vibrant and free right now. Just being safe was pleasing.

I didn't surface immediatly, but instead decided to relax in soothing presence of water. I was out of Leyawiin.


	31. The world against you

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with the author's notes of unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): The Blue Road

* * *

Even as I was so far from Leyawiin, I couldn't stop thinking about what kind of surreal developments were taking place countless miles behind me as I continued to journey towards the sanctuary while the sun set. I knew the citizens of the county were probably feeling what I had felt; The panic, the attempts to rationalize it, and the dread of their enemy's return. But I knew I was in greater danger.

With so many significant things happening recently, it felt like time was all out of sorts. Assassinating Philida felt like it had happened so recently, and yet the time between now and the moment I was discovered seemed to be stretched to its limits.

My life just couldn't seem to stay stable. The transfer to Cyrodiil I'd so often fantasized about had now been permanently marred, and it kept getting worse. That was the reality. It was inescapable. When it didn't enrage me, it crushed me.

Now I felt vulnerable. The enemy had the power to not only pierce my flesh, but also my soul. Would the Leyawiin guard be on the look out for me? I was sure very few people came to and left that town with the recent attacks, so I was certainly a suspect. The troubles seemed to be building up inside me. Had I been right to feel the assignment was overly risky?

The only good side to this was that it seemed to cool my thoughts on comparatively petty things, yet I would give anything to have those days of petty worrying back if it meant I would no longer think about these horrible crises.

By now, however, it was hard to even remember what those times before "Scar-tail's" death were like, because there were so many layers of pain between then and now. In this one trip to Leyawiin, I'd read an article that made me wonder if the Dark Brotherhood had ordered me to murder an innocent man for another's inheritance, then possibly been identified as a murder by the law and nearly gotten killed by the distracting power of my own uncertainties.

I wanted to rest my thoughts, but I wasn't sure that could ever happen while I was alive.

The sun was setting. I wondered how this would all feel in the morning.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil lighthouse

* * *

I knocked the pitcher over as another spurt of rage invaded me. The truth was the truth. There was nothing I could take comfort in, and that just made the pain multiply itself. I was about ready to tare myself to pieces with frustration. My mission may have become a total failure because they'd recovered the diary. What was sickeningly ironic is that's what I went there to prevent. That event had cast a bitterness over everything from that moment on.

I couldn't remember for sure how revealing my diary was, so its discovery could mean nothing or everything, but the blunt truth was that, _at the very best_, I had journeyed to Cheydinhal for _nothing_. At the very _worst_, years of work had all come to an end, and I could expect a Dark Brotherhood assassin to burst through the cellar door at any moment. Or worse, one was watching me right now from wherever my eyes could not see.

Finding out I resided in their ranks and had killed both Blanchard and Maria might shake them up a bit, but I couldn't settle for that. I had to keep my effort unflinching and completely solid. I was Mathieu Bellamont, and, because I pledged so, I would not be defeated. I would do all that was necessary to pull off the most extraordinary and frightening vengeance I could for Mother. I would throw all the bitterness and suffering they gave me right back at them. More, if I could, because I knew they'd slay anyone else the same way if they were payed for it.

I tried to return to the stream of thought I'd been exploring for nearly an hour: _what do I do to remedy this situation?_ I'd added up all sorts of reasons and come to all sorts of conclusions about what happened and what will happen, but none of them answered the big question.

I groaned as I stressed my mind for a satisfactory solution, but my thoughts were getting me nowhere. By the time I found one answer, I'd forget why I needed it. Then I'd fail to hold on to answer while I searched my mind again. Maybe I was asking the wrong question. Either way, I knew being up all last night wasn't helping, even though I _felt_ wakeful.

I could hear a knock on the door upstairs. It sent an unpleasant tingling through my body. _Maybe it's the assassin I'd predicted. _I listened for every little iota of sound I could pick up on to get an idea of who it was, but all I could hear were the old man's footsteps heading towards the door to open it. Should I take off, or was I being as paranoid as last night, when every creak and patter translated into an intrusion in some absurd way?

Then I heard the door open, and muffled voices above. There was more than one person at the door. That was a good sign. It was rare that Dark Brotherhood assassins ever worked together. For a second I felt a spurt of euphoria.

Soon I heard the door upstairs close again. Simply having something to distract me from my own mistakes was nice.

I decided now was as good a time as any to get some dinner, so maybe I wouldn't be distracted by my own hunger. I wasn't really in the mood to eat, considering the stress, but I'd skipped lunch already. I got up from the chair I'd been given and began walking to exit the cellar, though still a bit lost in thought.

The Dark Brotherhood was making me fear them, even after they'd already taken so much from me. That thought made my rage return, just when I knew I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was fantasize about the moment when I would finally reveal my real intentions to them, and kill _their _mother: the battle when I could release my fury in full force, the moment when Ungolim would realize his mistake. I'd fantasized about that moment so many times in the past. I hoped they all saw their death coming. The last words they'd hear, where it would take place, and how I would slay them were always changing in my fantasy, but one thing remained consistent: I wanted them to see their own deaths. They wouldn't just die, they would be anguished and defeated first.

I opened the cellar door and paused briefly when the Gold Coast came into view. I looked out upon the vast golden hills as I thought about what the world had become for me. To the government and common folk I was a murder. To the Dark Brotherhood I was, or would be, a cancer. The crushing truth was that it was me against the world. No wonder I felt so lonely.

I started walking again, and came around to the front of the light house. I noticed their were five sailors: a Redguard, Imperial, Breton, Argonian, and Bosmer, likely the ones who visited Ulfgar Fog-eye, pointing at a piece of paper and conversing. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead and pass them without notice, wondering how they'd react to me with each step.

As I got closer, I heard only the word "Varulae" before the Breton turned to me. They were rugged looking characters, and it seemed like they wanted to look that way. I had a feeling they were a mean lot.

"Hey," the Breton man said, "Where'd you come from?" He was smiling, but I could sense something ruff and sadistic about it. The rest of the crew members turned to me, though none had a look of innocent curiosity, only smugness.

"The lighthouse," I answered, hoping to get the conversation over with, but none of them broke eye contact with me.

"You weren't in there. Where'd you come out of?" I was already getting uncomfortable.

"I was in the cellar." I said, choosing my words carefully, but it didn't deter his effort to find something to mock me for.

"The cellar? You live in the cellar or something? You some kind of human rat?" He said, his smile growing. His soul void of innocence like so many others. He was like all the others I'd enlisted to fight against in an unending war, but I was at a loss for words.

"You sure look like one." The Imperial chimed in. I could tell he was satisfied with his display of his mean-spirited nature. Just as I had reason to push aside thoughts of revenge, a new enemy had found me. They all laughed without an effort to suppress it. That had incriminated them all.

I could feel my appetite waning. They had crossed the line and they knew it. No doubt they were proud of it. And I was losing precisely because I had not struck the first blow. I undoubtedly had the right to feel this passionate anger.

"Well, come on, let's go. Rats usually carry disease." The Redguard said, the oldest member of the group.

They turned to walk away as I remained in a state of shock at the quick and brutal blows they'd delivered, while anger boiled inside me as the scene replayed again. I knew what a combination of innocence and stupidity I'd appeared to be. They'd crossed the line into evil.

I watched them walk away, trying to study everything I could about them. That was the first step in everything I did, studying the situation. I needed to relocate them. I must have revenge. I promised myself I'd never forgive and never forget, and I wouldn't hold a double standard with these sailors. My will for justice needed to remain solid and fully intact regardless of the situation.

I started taking mental note of their outfits, repeating what I saw over and over and over again in my thoughts as they walked off. I was quivering slightly, taken over by a hateful passion as I continued to watch, hoping with every second they didn't leave the docks. If they did, they might no longer be visible to me.

I was fortunate. I could see them boarding the nearest ship, going below decks. That was where my revenge needed to be carried out.

I had found a new target seconds after I stopped plotting against the Dark Brotherhood. Was that all my life was? Lonely, bitter plotting? When I let my guard down, new enemies were added to my list. Could I handle it all? Of course, I was as strong as I decided to be, but it was making my life so difficult.

By now I was so disgusted I knew I could bare to eat. The outrageous moment had captivated me. They'd pushed so far and made me feel so helpless so quickly.

_Maybe I deserved this. I am a murder for money._ I thought. No, that wasn't true, that's what I was pretending. I'd practically convinced myself of it, and it always popped up to guilt me, but it wasn't true. Besides, they didn't know that.

Then another thought came to me: _What about Blanchard? You'd be making the same mistake again. _

No. The last mistake I made was _not killing_ Lachance. I had to shut out the inner timidness.

My logic was clearly pointing me towards the idea of boarding that ship and killing them...somehow. There must have been a way. I'd handled much more difficult tasks. I had to conquer my fear with my free will. Free will, in its sacred and distinct unmalleability, had to conquer all else. I had to prove myself up to any challenge whether I liked it or not.

There was cargo on the deck. No doubt I could find a place to hide and stay until night, or until they left. Either way, I couldn't let them out of my sight if I were to get my revenge. _And I must get my revenge. I must not once cave in and be defeated._


	32. Two Return

A/N: Recently, Kytten made a very interesting observation about Bellamont's diary on the Lorum. Let's just say it adds a nice new level of drama to the plot, and actually explains quite a bit. Anyway, she let me use it, but I'd like to say she deserves the credit for discovering it.

Oh, and one more thing. If you want to get an idea of how these characters are supposed to look, check out my homepage. I'm using it to post pictures of my characters (made with the character customization system in this), and maybe some concept art in the future...though not likely, because I'm not much of an artist.

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

**(Fights-up-close): **Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

My foot touched the floor of the sanctuary and I released my grip on the well-entrance ladder. Finally reaching the sanctuary felt like victory of some sort. Now I could finally get some sleep. Perhaps the chaos in my head would be ordered in the morning. Either way, I didn't have to worry about that now. I didn't need to do anything except look forward to collapsing into a soft bed. In the back of my mind, I knew I may have plunged myself into deeper levels of trouble with law than I was ready to handle, but those thoughts were blocked out right now, and I didn't see any reason to let them flood in. That would just make me wakeful for all the wrong reasons. I knew I'd have wait for the press to get hold of Phillida's assassination to decide if I was truly I wanted criminal. 

(Mathieu Bellamont): The Serpent's Wake

* * *

There was fear in old bosmer's eyes as it began to dawn on him he'd meet the fate of the Argonian, but I saw neither reason nor urge for mercy. It was good I no longer felt hesitant to kill. The Dark brotherhood had taken much from me, but that was the one robbery I was grateful for. 

I delivered another punch to his face, causing him to fall back on the crates behind him. The energy and exhilaration within me reached its peak as I lifted my hand and plunged the knife into his chest. The knife easily penetrated his body, destroying his ultimate possession. It did not kill him instantly, giving him time to witness his last moments of utter helplessness, as he was rendered completely useless by a single sharp piece of metal. Every second he spent in pain was an accomplishment for me.

When he stopped moving, I removed the dagger. The blade was now shining like a ruby, marking my accomplishments. I had not only conquered all five of them, but I'd conquered my self-doubt. I had a feeling of liberation, I knew now the true power my skill and soul had. I had proved my own words right. I was as strong as I decided to be. I'd carried out a truly glorious revenge.

I admired the dagger, the small and light tool that could take everything from a person with one movement of the hand. I felt three things now more than ever: power, purpose, and pride. I had truly defeated an enemy at no cost to myself. I hated to admit those talents were inherited, but I'd put them to good use.

The thoughts of the Dark brotherhood came back; the family was still well and the Night Mother still alive, but now the thoughts seemed to flow freely. No longer were those thoughts accompanied by bitter-hatred, but an exhilarating sense of confidence that I might indeed take down an organization after it had survived for over a millennium. The thoughts of revenge flowed freely, and now seemed bathed in glory.

I wouldn't stay cowering in the light house, trapped by pointless inhibitions. I needed to return to Cheydinhal. I needed to find out what truly happened with my old journal, and if my cover had been blown, it was to time unleash my wrath. I rotated the bloody dagger in my hand. Now, in the night, with my enemies dead and a new confidence found, I stood in place and reveled in my thoughts. Whether I stood there for seconds or minutes didn't matter. I knew I had plenty of time, and that, even though I had refused to see it, my plan was indeed easy to grasp, and the fall of the Dark Brotherhood was imminent.I knew I was too charged up to get any sleep tonight. I would make one last entry in my journal and then head to Cheydinhal once more.

I was no longer their puppet. My original reasons for joining came back clear as day, the memory still fresh. I only regretted I hadn't been more aggressive in the past. I'd be trying to forget my former life so I could tolerate the mere sight of the family members, but now I no longer needed. I could still recall that moment when I thought I'd never see my father again:

"How could Lucien?" She said between sobs "Yes, times are hard, but if this is the only way we are to make a living, let us be poor!" The door slammed. She didn't even know I was listening. I knew a lot more than she thought, in fact. When she came around the corner, she jumped at the sight of me. I jumped at her reaction. Then, she composed herself and said to me.

"Daddy's gone off to find a new job, Pierre. I'm so sorry." And I believed her. But she was wrong. Horribly wrong. But soon Lucien would see he was the one who made the real mistake.


	33. One Returns

Sun's Height 9, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

_**Direct-contact paralysis:**_

_The spell of paralysis has proved a difficult yet very rewarding spell for an illusionist to master. Projecting a paralysis spell from any sort of range is certainly not recommended for those who have not mastered direct contact attacks, so it is strongly advised you read this section and pass the Mage's Guild time honored qualification tests (see pg 145) before you move onto the art of casting a range paralysis spell. For this reason, this entire section has been devoted only to the casting of a direct-contact paralysis spell._

_**Basic Effects:**_

_The direct-contact paralysis spell has been a favorite of riot controllers throughout Cyrodiil. The spell does not cause any direct injury, making it ideal for law enforcement. Though injury to the target may result if his or her limp body is allowed to fall onto a hard surface, this is generally rare, and the risks of serious injury are no greater than with any other non-lethal take down. As soon as the spell comes in contact with the target, all of the targets voluntary muscle movements will cease for a varying number of seconds (heavily dependant on the skill of the spell caster). This includes breathing; However, because the record duration for the paralysis spell to this day is only thirty-six seconds, with few Mages capable of exceeding twenty seconds, this never becomes an issue to the target's health._

_Those who have fallen victim to the effects of this spell report they are still fully conscious during the duration of the spell effect, but are unable to move or feel any part of their body. _

_Ironically, rumors that this spell has also been used by organized thieves, such as_

Ocheeva interrupted my reading. "Ah, **Fights-**," She said, her face showing a kind of concern that made me a bit nervous. I noticed something in her right hand. A small piece of paper as best I could tell. "**I must speak with you. It is quite urgent.**" My heart sank a little. I knew I wasn't going to like what I was about to hear, especially because her words sounded rehearsed, like she was holding back an unpleasant truth **"A sealed letter just arrived from a Dark brotherhood courier." **She said, holding the letter infront of her, examining it slightly next to the light **"I recognize this type of parcel. It contains sealed orders.** **It's addressed to you from...Lucien Lachance." **She handed it to me with a concerned expression. "**You must open this envelope _immediately_ and follow their instructions _to the letter_. It would seem the Black Hand itself has a task for you." **

That certainly brought down the mood. I had hoped to say in the sanctuary for a while, because the outside world had become outright scarey to me now. I'd probably lose my mind if I were to walk the streets again in public wondering if I was a wanted criminal. Ocheeva, without saying another word, walked towards her room to get some rest.

I put down the book, keeping it opened to that page, even though I wasn't sure I'd continue reading it again for a while, then began walking to the Living Quarters, slowly ripping the envelope as I went. Staring half at the floor, and half at the letter, I found myself by the side of my bed quite soon. Tension grew with every rip:

**Fights-up-close,**

**You have served the Dark Brotherhood well in the short time you have been with us. Now the Black Hand itself is in need of your abilities. **

**You must proceed with all haste to my private refuge in the ruins of Fort **Farragut**, located in the forest North East of the **Cheydinhal **Sanctuary. When you arrive, we will discuss the nature of your special assignment. **

**I cannot stress to you enough the importance of your swift arrival at Fort **Farragut**. There are unseen powers working to unravel the very fabric of the Dark Brotherhood. The Black Hand is counting on you to prevent this disaster. **

**Do not share the contents of this message with anyone at the **Cheydinhal** Sanctuary, including Stabber, and make no mention of your journey to Fort **Farragut**! Also, be warned -- my refuge within Fort **Farragut** is guarded by denizens who will attack any interloper on sight. In order to bypass these rotting sentinels you must enter through a secret secondary entrance. West of the fort you will find a large tree trunk. It has been hollowed out for entry into my sanctuary.**

Lucien Lachance

The words conveyed a kind of concern I'd never seen before from any assignment. I could tell the danger was more serious than anything I'd faced before. Another trial to burden my exhausted soul. Without further thought, I dropped the note onto my bed. I wanted to get to Fort Farragut before my weakness might for once win against the will of Sithis.

(M'raaj-Dar): Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

She left almost immediately, no longer holding the letter. And, as usual, not even making eye contact with me as I drank. Disappointing. I had been preparing my next jab for weeks now. Having to hold it in was getting endlessly annoying, as I worried I might overlook the right circumstance. When I heard the rumors that one of the Shadowscales had defected, I expected things would get a bit more fun around here. I was wrong. None of those scaly whelps seemed to be buying anything anymore. 

After my last sip of beer an idea came to my head: The letter she was holding. She seemed to have dropped it somewhere. There was a glimmer of hope to it; getting my hands on any private material offered some opportunity for sabotage. Then I could finally let some of this bubbling anger surface.

I got up, eager to provide myself with some excitement, and walked over to the beds. Sure enough, there was a torn envelope and letter lying on her quilt. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if some eyes might be upon me, but I was alone. The others were either practicing or chatting it up in the main room. My adrenaline began rushing as I noticed the seal on the letter. A secret assignment. I felt a rush of emotion: boiling anger at the fact that the Shadowscales were getting these kinds of assignments, passionate excitement that I was reading a top secret letter, and wakefulness like I hadn't felt in ages.

I picked up the letter:

Feekava-Taakeeus,

Jo yist holmeeus Buchelew Tie gaj ov teem sheev jo yist ov meenaz danak. Mujshak

It was in Argonian. At that time, the alien words seemed as infuriating as the Shadowscales themselves. Anger at the Black Hand was always marring my reverence of them for approving their admission. Phonies was too flattering a term for the Shadowscales. Still, I skimmed for what words I could read.

I could only make out the words Cheydinhal and Farragut. Fort Farragut was Lucien's sanctuary. That was probably where they would meet. Few visited it except to receive special assignments. I had to see what this was about for myself.

**(Learns-fast): **Cheydinhal

* * *

**Surveys-from-above** exited the room, leaving me alone with the copy of the Black Horse Courier. The last few days had been rather uneventful, as Lucien seemed to have disappeared from Fort Farrgut. Now, however, I was being told that something big had happened. I wasn't sure how to take that. **Surveys-from-above **seemed to have mixed emotions, and he was a bright enough kid. Anticipation was welling up inside my gut, and for some reason I hesitated to look directly at the copy. Even so, delaying any longer wasn't excusable. 

I picked up the parchment, plunging myself into the situation despite an odd reluctance.

_**Adamus Phillida Slain!**_

_SPECIAL EDITION!  
ADAMUS PHILLIDA SLAIN!_

_LEYAWIIN ATTACKED!_

_by Waldorf Wordswell _

_In what can only be described as a blatant assault on the security and liberty of the civilized people of Cyrodiil, Imperial Legion commander Adamus Phillida was brutally murdered during an assignment in Leyawiin only three hours before an assault on the city itself was conducted by a criminal organization known as the "Renrijdra Krin". The thugs managed to breach the perimeters of the city walls, though were prevented by the Leyawiin City Guard and Imperial Legion from terrorizing local civilians. Though all the bandits were eventually slain or arrested, there was a combined total of six deaths between members of the Imperial Legion and Leyawiin Guard, with another eight wounded._

_Whether there was a link between the slaying of Adamus Phillida and the following assault is still under dispute, as is exactly what faction was behind his assassination. Other than that the assassin was female and Argonian, no further descriptions have been given. _

_The Dark Brotherhood is a natural suspect, because, throughout the years, Adamus Phillida had become a rather vocal opponent of the Dark Brotherhood and its practices, and vowed to expose the organizations' secrets and bring its leaders to justice. Indeed, Phillida had been targeted for assassination by the Dark brotherhood twice in the past, but both attempts were thwarted by the commander and his Legion soldiers. _

_However, others suspect the slaying to have been coordinated by the same group which conducted the assault, addressing the fact that, to quote Captain Caelia Draconis "It provided an adequate diversion to draw our forces away from the city walls, as well as significantly weakening Leyawiin's defenses by eliminating an experienced leader in our ranks." _

_Still, others suspect something more sophisticated in the works; that the Renridjra Krin may have found allies in the Eastern province of Black Marsh. Unrest and tension similar to that in Elswyre is suspected to also be manifesting itself in the homeland of the Argonian, where many believe the assassination was coordinated. _

_Newly appointed Imperial Legion commander Giovanni Civello declined to comment, but promises to do his utmost to continue the investigation of Phillida's murder as well as ensure Leyawiin will not fall under attack a second time. _

_Adamus Phillida may be dead, but it would seem his fight lives on in Giovanni Civello and the rest of the Imperial Legion. There may soon come a day when those bloodthirsty assassins have more to fear than the good people of the Imperial Province. _

Again the world sabotaged me! Adamus Phillida was assassinated in Leyawiin by a female Argonian, and many suspected a connection to Black Marsh. Many government officials, for sure, because that was obviously where the Black Horse career got its information. According to the reports of **Fights-up-close** before her transfer, the people of Leyawiin knew what we were afraid of. Lady Leyawiin had already caught one of our spies, **Climbs-out-of-sight**, and to see another Argonian come to the town to kill a Legion Captain certainly didn't look good for us. But who had been behind this? Obviously not the Argonian Royal Court, or I would have given the order. And, even with all the research the Argonian Royal Court had done on the Renridjra Krin, I never found any record of them operating like that. The Dark Brotherhood? But they'd failed twice before. Even so, they seemed to be the only possibility left. I sat in silence briefly as it all sunk in.

An idea flashed into my head. Female Argonian. Was it one of our former Shadowscales, **Stabber **or **Fights-up-close** who carried out the job? They were certainly employed by the Dark Brotherhood now. It couldn't have been the work of the Argonian Royal Court, and I wasn't sure how many Argonian females the Renridjra Krin had under their employ. A fury came over me. Had Lucien really been that careless?

No doubt the assassination would cast further suspicion on Argonia, and I didn't know how long it would be before the Empire finally sent troops to investigate. Then they might discover exactly what our Kings and Queens had been doing with their cash allowance, and how we violated their trust. That would almost definitely mean our doom. We might have been equipped to fight a war, but they had made the Argonian Royal Court themselves all those years ago, and they knew our weaknesses because so little had changed. Trying to ward off the tribals who wanted pieces of our wealth was hard enough, and the last thing we needed was to face the wrath of the Cyrodiils.

The entire situation sickened me. Lachance was no where to be found, yet he so vilely left me with this mess. I had little I could do but hope the Empire wouldn't jump to any conclusions, and wouldn't check up on the province they'd forsaken so long ago.

None the less, Lucien's selfish indifference was a reminder of why I came here to Cyrodiil.

I knew by now I normally would have been preparing to get some sleep, especially with the rest of the day holding so little promise, but now I wasn't sure I could get to sleep. There was too much rushing through my mind. The danger to the Argonian Royal Court was growing because of the one man who the Black Hand had sent to represent them.

I decided to summon **Surveys-from-above **one last time. I wanted to know when Lucien returned to Fort Farrgut on the hour.

**(Fights-up-close):** Outside of Fort Farragut

* * *

_Unseen powers working to unravel the very fabric of the Dark Brotherhood_. Very powerful words. By Sithis, what had my life become? I hardly felt like myself any more. It all seemed alien. Right now I wished more than anything I could just have the life of a normal Shadowscale. I remembered how I viewed my journey from Gideon to Leyawiin before I knew such intense pain and stress as this: the worst four hours of my life. I would have loved to go back to worrying about such petty things, but those days were long gone. Now I had worries which held little hope. I was carrying the weight of the Dark Brotherhood on my shoulders, and things were going down hill for them. And to think the words "**Transfer to Cyrodiil**" had once rung in my head as a source of cheer. I couldn't help but worry myself sick about this assignment. Mr. Lachance was usually so assured about things, and the letter showed unsettling lack of certainty.I got an acidic sensation in my stomach the more I thought about it. 

With my magically enhanced vision, I was finally able to find the secret entrance Lucien was talking about. I pulled the cold metal handle of the wooden trap door, mixing the outdoor air with the dark and dank depths of his refuge.

I placed my hands on the rope later, feeling a bit of fear as it swung back and forth. Fear. A problem I could overcome. A welcome distraction. The trap door was still opened, but I wasn't in any mood to close it, and knew it would likely make no difference opened or closed. Or was that disloyalty? Oh I hated those thoughts. No. It wasn't disloyalty. It was the haste my superior had ordered. I left the trapdoor opened as I slowly made my way down to the stone floor, hating how the rope swung so much. I finally let go of the ladder and turned to see the shadowy figure of Mr. Lachance himself, startling me, and sending an unpleasant tingling through my head knowing someone had seen my embarrassing performance on the rope later.The embarrassment had little time to linger, though. He spoke

"I have been waiting for you, assassin." He said. It had been a while since I'd heard his voice, and it took a second to adjust "We have not spoken in some time, but I am well aware of your accomplishments within the Dark brotherhood. That is why I have sent for you here." He began to pace as he continued. I gauged it may well have been darker in his fort than outside. I wouldn't have seen him if it were not for the 'night-eye' spell. "It would appear we have a situation. The Black Hand has learned that the Dark Brotherhood has been...infiltrated." I felt an odd tingling at the last word. Infiltrated. It had a profound impact. He immediately stopped and lifted his eyes to me, perhaps examining if I had the proper reaction. I didn't know how I appeared, only how I felt. The word seemed to shake my mind "By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know." He put his hands behind his back and began to pace again "It was learned that there is a link between the traitor, and the Cheydinhal sanctuary." He looked at me again. My mind was rushing with all sorts of attempts to analyze what he was expecting to see in me. It was starting to annoy me. Then he continued, gritting his teeth "The traitor has tainted that place beyond repair." Breaking eye contact again. "It was learned that the traitor was active before you joined the Dark Brotherhood. That absolves you of _any_ suspicion.**" **Now he stared directly at me again, I got an odd feeling he saw me as somehow...lower than before. I couldn't quite place it. This time the stare lasted an extra long time, his expression solemn and serious**. "**Listen well, child of Sithis." He commanded gently. "You have been selected to perform the ancient rite known as 'Purification'." He paused briefly, then with his emphasis growing with every word spoke "Everyone inside the Cheydinhal sanctuary must die!"

At first I wondered if I'd heard him correctly. But I must have. His anger. His mysterious manner of speaking to me during this meeting. The term 'Purification'. It fit together 'perfectly'. The words seemed to shatter the embrace I'd once felt coating me in the presence of the family, leaving me with only over-barring, cold, and bitter world. And I knew I'd only begun to comprehend the implications behind the assignment, "I know," Lucien Lachance conceded eagerly "this is an unexpected turn of events, but our organization has survived for more than a millennium; sometimesdrastic measures must be taken to preserve the sanctity of our beliefs." Mr. Lachance turned to me again. His rage was once again surging "Antoinette Marie, Ocheeva, Gogron Gro-Bolmog, Telandril, M'raaj-Dar, and Tienaava." He said each name with crystal clarity, but I could tell he was having trouble containing a rage burning within him "All these family members _must_ _die_!" He shouted thunderously, with a fury I'd never before witness from him. It hurt me in a childish sort of way to see him yell like that, but the words themselves were worse. I stood in silence. First I felt shocked, but it soon became a nauseating fear. I was unable to speak.

(M'raaj-Dar): Outside Fort Farragut

* * *

I couldn't deny it. I could hear perfectly from opened trap door, and Lucien had indeed commanded the whole sanctuary be killed. Now, all the sudden, my original reasons for following her seemed insignificant and silly. My time at the Dark brotherhood was over, and I knew I'd never look at those years the same way again. My hatred was replaced with fear. I would have to start a totally new life. My old memories came flooding back to before the Dark Brotherhood found me. 

It was useless to tell the others.If they believed me, I'd be guilty of spying on the Black Hand. I knew the only thing I could do was pack my bags and learn to live as a fugitive again.


	34. Free Thought

Sun's Height 9, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Cheydinhal

* * *

The closer I got to the Cheydinhal sanctuary, the more the situation took hold of me. I was holding back tears, my throat aching. I had indeed been right. I couldn't even trust my family in the sanctuary.

I tried to dissect and question everything I knew about them to see if I could figure out who the traitor was. I knew it was probably futile because the Black Hand didn't figure it out, but I had to try. My mind raced as I walked.

I tried to sift through all the memories I could, but no sign of hope of finding the traitor came; I'd never seen any family member do anything suspicious. The traitor was a master of deception. I felt so small and helpless in the world as I walked through the dark and cold night.

The abandon house was within view now. I knew it was my duty to kill everyone if I couldn't find some way to conclude who the real traitor was. I tried to think methodically. What if it was Ocheeva? To imagine her enthusiasm, her happiness at my success all being false. The idea of her being the traitor seemed otherworldly. What if Gogron was the traitor? He seemed cheery and simple enough, but what if there was something beneath that? If he was the traitor, I wasn't sure I'd feel like I could know anything in life. What if M'raaj-Dar was the traitor?

M'raaj-Dar. It clicked. It all seemed to come together with beautiful self-evident fluency. M'raaj-Dar was the traitor. I was baffled that I hadn't seen it sooner.

M'raaj-Dar had been the only one to be so rude to me, and he seemed to be trying to turn the other family members against Shadowscales.

I realized ecstatically that I had succeeded where Mr. Lachance had not. I could see who the traitor was. There came a happiness so pure it made me want to sing and dance. Of course, I contained myself, not wanting to make a show before I entered through the well, but the cold night no longer seemed so cold, and I felt more confident than ever before.

I approached the secret entrance. My mind was rushing with all sorts of ways the scenario could play out. I had to make it evident to the other family members that he was the traitor, somehow, but I knew that wouldn't be too difficult.

I checked over my shoulder, more out of ritual than concern, and then unlocked the well. I started to imagine our glorious last meeting in my head. I knew I could think of something. I fantasized about it as I climbed down the ladder. "So, M'raaj-Dar. You've got something to trade? Weapons? Equipment? Allegiances, maybe?" was probably how I'd start out, and I knew, whatever I said, it would be a truly precious moment. My mouth coiled into a full-hearted smile as I began playing out his possible responses in my head.

I began walking towards the Living Quarters, where he was usually drinking beer at this hour. I savored every foot-step I took as the adrenaline flowed through my veins. I saw no other family members. Good. No one to delay me. I turned the corner, getting closer to the Living Quarters.

As I advanced, my stride confident, I made an attempt to push down my smile, so I could mess with his head first. It would be ideal if I could get a confession, and get him to attack first so my family would see how clear it was that he was the traitor.

Excitement was bubbling inside me as I headed down the hall, livening up the night.

When I made it to the Living Quarters, M'raaj-Dar was in plain sight. However, he was doing something I'd never seen him do before. His bag of merchandise was empty, with its previous contents scattered on the floor, and he seemed to be searching frantically through the chest at the foot of his bed. With one more step, he realized my presence, and jerked violently, instantly getting to his feet and turning to face me. I could detect a hint of fear in his expression. I was about to nail the traitor. I felt truly great. He instantly began to speak.

"Ah, there you are, it's-" He stammered, his eyes darting around nervously "it's good to see you again!" The words surprised me, causing me to relax my right hand slightly "No!" M'raaj-Dar said as I noticed it must have looked like I was reaching for my dagger "Really, I mean it!" The sentence was rather intriguing. The khajiit smiled feebly. I'd caught the traitor doing something suspicious, and now he was calling me his friend.

"What?" I asked, genuinely curious. I took a step closer, testing him, and he took a step back as if to compensate.

"Listen..." he began, his eyes still darting every which way "...I guess...I guess I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I've treated you in the past." Suddenly, I felt my confidence, my hate, and my energy soften slightly. Still, I took another step forward, testing his reaction once again to find a pattern. He took another step back.

"I mean, look at you, the things you have a accomplished!" He exclaimed "You've obviously proven yourself a valuable member of this sanctuary! So...eh..." He glanced at the opened chest quickly before looking at me again. "...let's start over. I'm sure from this point forward you and I are going to be great friends!" He extended his hand. No, it sounded corny, and I already had reason to suspect him. I was one step away from cleansing the Dark Brotherhood from treachery and he was trying to set me back. I decided to ruthlessly dig into his words instead of shaking his hand to see if I could get deep enough to find the truth.

"So you want to be friends with me because...what? I got a secret contract?" I inquired, I took a step closer. Again, he took a step back, this time briefly glancing at what was behind himself afterwards.

"Oh, a secret contract, you say?"

I nodded. I didn't intend to show mercy, but I didn't intend to be aggressive either. I just wanted him to know that if this was a ploy, it wouldn't work. "C'mon, can't you give your old pal M'raaj-Dar a hint? Who do you have to kill? Anyone I know?" then he began laughing, but it sounded faked, almost like a cough, which it quickly devolved into. At this point, his horrible acting made it crystal clear to me. He knew exactly what the assignment was, and that put him in danger. I felt deeply satisfied. I was looking at the traitor, and he was afraid of me. I knew he would be defeated here and now.

"Most likely," I responded. I hoped I could scare him into attacking first, but I wasn't yet successful. If he attacked first, I'd need only call for help, so I'd have a witness. "You going to defend yourself?" I asked.

He answered my question without speaking as he threw his hands in the air is if preparing to launch some kind of magical attack. This was it, the moment I'd been waiting for. I immediately lunged behind the nearest pillar. I could feel a chilling breeze on my legs, emanating from the area his spell had been cast. Of course, it was far from a direct hit, so it was a frightening reminder of how devastating a direct hit from one of his spells could be. I needed to cry for help, not because I thought I couldn't win, but because I needed to look like the victim as much as possible. Though I hated to acknowledge my fear, I did it. I screamed with all the force I could "HELP!".

I could instantly hear some distant shuffling from other parts of the sanctuary. Even so, the next several seconds were bound to be horrible, as I knew that my survival depended on my family members now.

I turned back to the treacherous mage to see another ball of severely chilled air coming my way. I swiftly ducked, cold wind stinging my face. Again, I knew it wasn't a direct hit. I took in all the information about my surroundings I could to search for my next destination. I observed every force working for and against me. I knew this was a matter of life or death.

M'raaj-Dar was now advancing with speed I knew I was helpless to outdue. I could only imagine the brutality that was about to ensue. His face was marked with fury, and I knew I could safely assume I was physically inferior to him.

As inescapable the predicament seemed, a solution came to me smoothly and intuitively. I jumped, grabbing onto the top of a hanging lantern and pulled by self up. Swinging from my odd new spot, I knew I had only bought myself an extra second of safety, but that was good enough. I'd only begun to process how hot the lantern was before I pushed my legs against the stone wall and let go of the lantern, throwing my body back behind M'raaj-Dar.

After flipping in mid-air, my feet hit the ground, but my body was met with an intense backwards force that caused me to stumble backwards. I was no longer in such graceful harmony with physics. I soon found myself against the wall. I knew that wouldn't work again. These were going to be the most meaningful seconds of myself. M'raaj-Dar was advancing for me once again. I jumped over a bed to my left but, frustratingly enough, that made little difference. Even so, I did the same for the next bed, and the next one, and the next one, yet he was still getting closer. I decided I'd have to fight defensively at the very least.

I tried to kick him as he came close, but, with infuriatingly good reflexes, he managed to grab my leg and cause me to fall backwards. There was a moment where I felt nothing but fear, not even the ground beneath me. Then I found myself looking at the ceiling as I brutally hit the floor. Each time I escaped, it seemed I got one step closer to inevitable death at his hands. He was now hovering over me. Countless questions began flashing before me. Had he been converted the same way **Goes-in-heavy** had? What had the Black Hand found out to indicate the traitor was in this sanctuary? What would happen to him when...if I died? Would he try to profess his innocence?

Then I heard the familiar whoosh and impact of an arrow. Though I didn't see the projectile itself, M'raaj-Dar's expression was soon horribly contorted as he cried out in pain. A miracle. Sithis had granted me the freedom to continue to live and interact with the world so I could experience the outcome of the traitor's defeat first hand. As M'raaj-Dar fell, I could see Telandril, with Ocheeva following close behind, staring at me with wide-eyed concern.

Though pain still washed over my head in waves from the fall, my hands were still hot, and my tail was in an uncomfortable position, I was glad to have a tangible world still around me. Telandril offered me her hand, which I gladly accepted. The occurrence seemed so divine. A disaster had been averted and I'd been saved only a second away from death. The sight of my scales, unscathed, shimmering glinting in what little light was in the Living Quarters, was satisfying enough.

Even so, there were some other thoughts that danced around in the back of my mind. I knew they were going to ask a lot of questions, but I had to wonder how the family would react; both the Shadowscales and non-Shadowscales. I could expect some difference there. I wasn't even sure how I was supposed to react.

"Sweet Sister," Telandril said as I tried to ignore the pain on the back of my head, hoping it would go away soon "Are you alright? We had no idea he was so serious." Before I even spoke I could see more concerned faces arrive. Antoniette Marie, Vincenti Valteria and Tienaava were now in the room as well, with the same stunned expressions.

"Better than I would have been without you. I think he was the traitor we've been hearing rumors about." I said. I wasn't sure exactly how much I should tell them. Lucien _did_ say not to mention the nature of my assignment to anyone, but it seemed odd I should keep it a secret now that it was finished. I noticed there still was a lot of uncertainty to deal with, even though I was grateful to be saved and to have my family still alive.

I decided not to take the chance and waited for one of them to have the next word. Gogron was the last to enter, probably weighted down by his heavy armor, but he had a reaction just like everyone else.

Ocheeva spoke, taking control of the situation with confidence "I'll see to it that this all gets sorted out. Now tend to your wounds if need be. I'm sure we can handle the rest." I had to wonder exactly what she meant by "handle". I could tell M'raaj-Dar's death was going to cause some awkward moments.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing the back of my head gently with my warm hands. I weaved my way around the crowd, wondering what they might be thinking as I avoided eye contact. Either way, those were unimportant things. I was alive and the traitor wasn't. That was what mattered more than anything else. I wasn't sure I had any wounds that I could actually tend to, but I wanted to inform Mr. Lachance about my success.


	35. Crushed

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Abandoned House

* * *

I was absolutely ecstatic that I would be able to tell Mr. Lachance this good news. I opened the door into a dark Cheydinhal night. Even though no one was out, it seemed to be filled with a sort of life I could truly relish in. I stepped out, taking in cool night air and chirps of crickets.

"Why has the Cheydinhal sanctuary not been purified?" A voice to my left startled me. I knew soon enough who it was, it was Lachance, but I still hadn't fully recovered from the unpleasant sensation of the scare "Everyone based out of that location must die." I turned to face the voice, but saw no one. "Only then will the Black Hand be satisfied." Suddenly I could feel the happiness lose its purity, then quickly fade. No, it couldn't be, he must not know I found the traitor. I darted my head left and right to see if I could locate him, but I couldn't. He was hiding somewhere, maybe even using the Shadow power. I knew I looked like a fool.

"M'raaj-Dar was the traitor. The issue is taken care of. He's dead." I said. Other than the chirping crickets, there was nothing but cold silence for a few seconds.

"Have you gone mad?" He finally replied, digging into every word "The very existence of the Dark brotherhood is at stake and you take matters into your own hands!?" At once I felt horribly crushed. There was another short pause, allowing the impact of the words to take a brutal toll on me. "I speak for the Night Mother. You will follow my directives." he said, his voice resuming relative calmness only briefly

No, this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. I grew frustrated as no words came to me, yet I knew vehemently, on some instinctual level, he was asking something absurd of me. "Make haste!" He commanded "The sanctuary must be purified if this treachery is to be undone!" The words made me feel every bad emotion I'd ever known, yet I could think of no way to counter them. He had indeed ordered everyone die. He was my superior. I stood for a few seconds in stunned silence, calculating, reflecting, recalling, trying to find some words to protest with. I dreaded the next sentence that might come out of his mouth, yet there was naught but silence for too long.

I let my thoughts flow boundlessly as I tried to detect exactly where he was. I got no readings. He had already left, and I had never even heard him.

I looked back at the Cheyindhal sanctuary. I could feel an ache in my throat. I knew I was holding back tears, yet I refused to acknowledge my pain. At once I felt so lonely. They would all die, and Mr. Lachance, who had been like a father to me, had order me to kill them. I finally thought I might have avoided another tragedy. I was wrong. By now I'd forgotten why I came out in the first place.

There had to be some way around this. I took a step towards the house, but it turned into a stumble. I was unable to think clearly. Trying to think only caused questions to pummel me from every side, and when I found answers, they were all grim. That's all that the future presented. Reason to worry. The situation put a solid barrier infront of any happy thoughts.

I was being asked to kill innocent family members. Even if it was for the good of the Dark Brotherhood, the idea seemed dizzying. No matter how I tried to think about it. When I turned one way, there was the idea of killing them all; my only true friends, when I turned the other way, there was the idea of betrayal, when my trust in my superiors had been as real as the ground beneath me. I just couldn't face it. The war in my head continued to rage.

_If Lachance wants to kill your family, let him do it himself_. _Let him get through us all_. I was shocked by the thought that came to my head. Purely disloyal! No, I couldn't disobey orders. But killing the whole sanctuary when I was positive I'd already killed the traitor...was that loyalty?

I felt horribly incapable of thinking at the moment. Everything I knew seemed to be destroying itself.

I finally made the decision to step towards the house, but again I stumbled.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but they just formed pain that saddened or infuriated me. I didn't know if I'd ever enjoy myself again.

I looked over at the house. My first thought was solidly that I wouldn't do it. Then I came to my senses. No, I had to do it, my superiors knew better than me.

At once I felt afraid. Treachery was right beneath me. I was right on its threshold. It might take only a moment of weakness to fall entirely.

I couldn't even begin to plan how to kill them. But every second I stood there, I was disobeying my superiors when I could decide to get started. But what did getting started even mean? Figuring out how to back stab my family members wasn't something I was used to planning.


	36. Obedience

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of the story was released. Keep in mind revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Cheydinhal Sanctuary

* * *

I continued to climb in a zombie like manner down the ladder as the forces of cowardice and strength warred in my head. This was true loyalty, and I hated it. The assignment wouldn't be fun, wouldn't pay, wouldn't allow bragging rights, wouldn't be satisfying, and would cause me to lose my new family just when I thought I saw signs of hope, yet it was what I was ordered to do, so I would do it. 

My feet touched the floor of the sanctuary. I surveyed the area for shadows and soft places to walk, then got into a sneaking position. _You better fetching appreciate this, Sithis_.

Chances are they were still crowded around M'raaj-Dar's body. I couldn't imagine how they planned to dispose of it.

If only I had something to hate them for, some passion to carry out this assignment with.

In harmony with the quiet and shadow, I crept in the direction of the Living Quarters, stopping in the nearest shadow. The pain of the situation seemed unbearable already, and I hadn't yet done anything.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps muffled through the door to the hallway. Someone was coming my way, towards the main room. He or she was away from all the others. This was the ideal time for a kill. However, unlike what would be normal, it didn't bring me any thrill to know that. It sent a crushing reminder of what I was there to do.

The sound of heavy steps towards the door continue. By Sithis, this dreaded moment was going to come so much faster than I expected. Right here, I could...no, I would seal my fate for Sithis-knows-how long.

It was Gogron, who turned the corner oblivious to me, his gaze distant. It was a look I saw so often in my enemies, but this was the first time I saw it in an ally. Then again, I'd never snuck up on an ally before.

He seemed to be heading towards the exit, perhaps to retrieve some supplies that would somehow help them dispose of M'raaj-Dar's body. My heart was pounding. All sorts of excuses to let him go were rushing through my head, but they were all failing. That meant I needed to kill now.

I unsheathed my dagger silently, trying not to think about the task at hand, then half-heartedly launched myself from the shadows to pounce.

As I was in the air, time seemed to become astonishingly slow. As I flew, there was at first a strong urge to burst into tears at the situation. I hated loyalty. I hated the world at that moment... and Gogron was part of it. In that split second, the hate provided a wonderful elixir to my pain. It gave me the passion I needed. He fell down face first instantly like a rag-doll, totally oblivious to my presence before hand. An inner-savage came over me. I plunged my dagger into his back. Just in case he wasn't dead, I stabbed again, and again. I was feeling a mix of hate, the urge to destroy every fiber of his being, and frantic mercy, the urge to make sure he would leave his body as soon as possible and find peace in the Void.

Once I stopped, the gruesome scene and mixed emotions all registered with me at once. It was dizzying. I had never felt anything like it before. It was like I was in a whole new world now, like my mind had been scattered completely. Something inside me changed. I wasn't sure if it was for the better or worse, but I felt light headed now. It wasn't painful or pleasant: my thoughts seemed unanchored.

They'd probably heard the thud and the screams, so I tried to take the time to calibrate my mind, turning away from the gruesome scene before me. I decided the best course of action was to hide behind one of the pillars and get ready to activate the mystic's sixth sense to find out who was the next family member coming.

I made my way behind the pillar in harmony with the stone and shadow even though my mind still rushing with all that had happened. The image of Gogron's now mangled body was stuck in my mind. Once a great servant of Sithis, now degraded a mess on the floor. The site made me feel odd. Not disgusted or sad yet, but odd. Odd to see the bodily fluids of someone I knew closely.

I braced myself, listening for footsteps from the Living Quarters. I didn't hear anything, so my mind continue to rush over what had happened. The thoughts going through my head were like nothing I'd ever experience before. It didn't even feel like my life. What was this? Was this really life? I felt out of place now somehow, yet I knew I'd known no other life.

New footsteps came, though faint. Someone was attempting to sneak into this area. I tried to clear my mind, destroying what images I'd conjured in it, and tried to sense whoever would soon find Gogron's body. I could see a lone colored blotch moving closer to the exit of the Living Quarters. The door was already opened, so I knew soon he or she would see Gogron. But whoever it was alone. I had another chance. Then the colored blob stopped. I knew why. I could feel the very shock in the air. I could feel the power of the revelation. No doubt he or she knew it was me. A discomforting and morbidly thought provoking idea, but I couldn't dwell on it.

The hand that held my bloody dagger shook with the bizarre emotional concoction inside me. I knew that family member wouldn't be alone for much longer. I made the conscious decision to charge out from my hiding spot run and pounce once again.

When I made it around the corner, which was likely no more than a second, I found out it was **Stabber**. She'd already unsheathed her dagger, but only just. Some kind of counter-force hit me upon seeing I was targeting a fellow Shadowscale, but it wasn't enough. With a bizarre passion pushing my inner energy into the outside world, I charged thoughtlessly, acting before the situation could get worse

**Stabber **grabbed my hand as I attempted to stab, causing me a surge of fury. It seemed so...cheap to compensate her unreadiness like that.

I would feel cold metal in my gut soon if I didn't act.

I realized my fleshy vulnerability an instant before I delivered a merciless blow to side of her face with my left hand, disorienting her, and compensating for my first set back. She stumbled back down the stairs still grasping my hand. There was moment of unpleasant suspense in the air before her head hit the floor with a sharp thud. Not enough to kill her, but it caused her to release her grasp.

I plunged my knife into her neck with brutal unhesitance, focused simply on eliminating the threat.

I'd have to deal with the rest of the family soon enough, even if **Stabber **couldn't scream at the moment, so the emotional impact of what I was doing didn't even cross my mind other than the way it played into my odds for survival. I'd already justified myself.

I withdrew the knife. She was holding the wound, thrashing violently against the no doubt ruthless pain and panic, but unable to scream. My survival instincts were flowing smoothly. I didn't waste a second I could use to my advantage. I turned towards the Living Quarters and pushed the Shadow's energy to the surface of my skin.

Already I could see two more faces, Antoinette and Telandril. They were in their night clothing and showing innocent concern, rushing out to what had happened. Both had grabbed their weapons, and Telandril, an additional hand full of arrows.

I didn't bother to make out the frantic chatter between them. I backed away, trying to maintain the very threshold of speed that could hold my Shadow energy, which was agonizingly slow in this situation.

When Telandril arrived at **Stabber**, she checked the top of the stairs, where I now was, but she was staring right through me. They both knelt down beside Ocheeva, panicking as death was spreading like wildfire around the sanctuary, now quickly engulfing its next victim.

**Stabber**, though unable to speak and thrashing violently from the pain and panic, managed to find it in her to sit up and point in my direction very briefly. Both Dark Sisters turned their heads in my direction. Of course, they saw nothing. **Stabber** violently tried to signal my presence, having seen me turn invisible, but to no avail. Trying to speak only caused her to cough up blood. The injury was clearly inflicting quite a bit of torture on her. I couldn't have even dreamt this up in a nightmare, but even so, she force me to take her life in such a manner. It could have come swiftly.

Telandril told Antoinette to try to get medical help to Ocheeva. Antoinette agreed immediately. The usual family roles had been reversed, with Antoinette acting as the mother figure to Ocheeva and Telandril providing the authority. It was disturbingly ironic that **Stabber** could count more on them than one of her fellow Shadowscales, but I couldn't think about that right now. I needed to think about this kill the way I thought about Gogron's.

Then Telandril, clenching her teeth, converting love and panic into fury, uttered the words "Night Mother grant me strength." before charging in my direction. This was my next chance. Telandril would come by, and when she did, it would be my time to ambush her.

With impeccable timing, I stuck my foot out infront of her right as she was within reach. The violent movement destabilized the Shadow energy, causing it to dissipate instantly, but the objective was successful. Telandril had tripped. With the merciless forces of nature, she tumbled forwards, soon finding herself face down on the ground. Her back was vulnerable and opened to attack. This was my chance for the next kill. I immediately seized the chance. Pin-pointing the right internal organs on the fly, I stabbed her in the back, puncturing her heart and a lung. It was amazing; I'd never performed like that against my true enemies, but now everything was different.

I turned back to **Stabber**. The scene had become far bloodier, but she still seemed to be fighting death. Antoinette Marie was likely in the Living Quarters now, looking for a healing potion.

It would probably be a bad idea to try to get close enough to finish the kill right now. I needed some diversity in fighting style. Despite my name, I knew there was a time and place for a ranged take down. I'd surprised myself quite a few times already, so I had faith I could pull this off.

I reached for the bow by my side, trying, with a bit of frustration, to fit an arrow in. Then, closing one eye for better aiming, I pulled back the string and pushed the wood forward, waiting for Antoinette to arrive again. There were a couple of seconds of silence. Long enough for the truth to pop up and torment me again. This was all real. This was all permanent. This was all loyalty.

She was back rather quickly, wasting not a second, with a bottle and cloth in her hand. Healing potion no doubt.

With her in my line of fire, I released the string. The arrow quickly flew forward. "Ah!" The force knocked her forward, spilling the healing potion onto the floor, furthering the chaos. "Sithis save me!" She cried. Of course, Sithis, indirectly, was the one brutally mauling her. She was trying to claw herself away.

I grabbed another arrow, clumsily trying to get it into an adequate firing position. Frustrated at first, I finally managed to get it in place while Antoinette was almost out of the range of my shot. In a moment filled with significance, I fired the arrow with last available fraction of a second, managing to hit her lower torso again. She cried out in pain once more, but stopped moving almost immediately afterwards. There was a soft sobbing sound from her direction that quickly faded. I looked over at **Stabber**, hoping that I had killed two birds with one stone.

**Stabber **had stopped moving. M'raaj-Dar, Gogron, Ocheeva, Telandril, and Antoinette. Five down. Amazing. Only two more to go.

At first I hardly realized what I was thinking. These were horrible thoughts.

But they were necessary. I needed to keep my thoughts from forming any structure. I needed to focus only on my objective.

The situation was as real and serious as could get, but I had keep it in the back of my mind.

I cleared my mind again, allowing my higher senses access. There was no life in the immediate area. That meant Vincenti and **Cleaver** were likely still in the Living Quarters, probably waiting for me. That was where M'raaj-Dar had emptied his bag of supplies too, so they'd have access to some pretty frightening resources.

I thought a bit further about Vincenti: he'd been alive for over two centuries, and presented me the opportunity to do the same. I'd never consented, but I'd never refused either. Now it was too late. Just another reason the situation was so hard to take in all at once and why I needed to maintain a state of semi-madness.

There was one arrow left by Telandril's body. I knew now I could take my time getting it into place. Holding the bow infront of me, half crouched, I slowly began advancing forwards, already facing the direction of the hall, making sure I couldn't be taken by surprise. I pushed more magicka into my eyes. Color left the world, but it was replaced with brightness.

I leaned around the corner, intent on releasing an arrow on the first sign of life I saw. I took care with every step, trying to get next to the wall closer to the Living Quarters. The suspense was grueling. These last two would probably be my toughest opponents. Tienaava knew exactly what I was capable of, while Vincenti had over two centuries of wisdom on his side. No doubt every second they were formulating a better strategy, built on top of who knows what kind of experiences.

I wanted to see if I could get any readings through the wall, as I was no doubt closer to them now. Before I could clear my mind, however, something happened.

A bottle was thrown around the corner. The abrupt movement causing me to fire off the arrow out of reflect. The bottle shattered easily against the stone floor, causing its contents to spill forward into the area I would have to head through, the dark liquid immediately catching fire.

I stumbled backwards as the intense heat of the fire smothered my face and stung my eyes. I knew what the substance was; It was intended as a liquid coating for weapons to make them go up in flames upon strike. "Fire damage poison" was its military terminology.

After stepping back, cool air felt good on my face after the close call with the fire, and I was unharmed, yet there was now a short wall of flames between the hall and the Living Quarters. Even so, it didn't cover the whole floor of the area. I wondered only briefly if I might be able to get around it, but then a second bottle of the same substance was thrown, completely engulfing my only way into the Living Quarters in flames.

I wasn't sure it was a set-back. In fact, I wasn't eager to meet the two Dark Brothers yet either, but I knew they must have done that with some sort of advantage in mind. Even so, my path was no more blocked than theirs. I pressed myself against the wall, listening for something that might indicate their intentions. I could hear shuffling. I could guess they were sifting through all M'raaj-Dar's merchandise. I hadn't gone to buy anything from him in ages, so I had no idea what might have been available.

I tried to get some readings through the wall again. I could see two blotches of color very close, moving slightly. I looked back into the hall. The fire was already starting to fade. The question was who would be charging who.

I tried to analyze the situation as the flames waned. If I waited, they might have time to better prepare for me, because they had access to all the gear. However, not being able to take them on one at a time would be a very obvious set back. It was hard to imagine winning a fight with two of them at once.

Tension began building in me as I noticed the uncertainty of the situation. I considered going back to Antoinette's body to retrieve the other two arrows, but I was strongly reluctant to turn my back on the remaining Dark Brothers even for that long. I needed an advantage. I knew they would show no mercy.

The flames were gone. I tried to get some readings once more. The peculiar shape of the blotches suggested they were still shuffling through the bag. Maybe now was the best opportunity I would get. Maybe I could grab the nearest Brother and use him as a human shield. Yes, I had to try. Sithis was testing my courage once again, and I wouldn't let him down.

Dagger raised, I charged around the corner.

Tienaava had managed to lift his head from his searching in a very timely manner, and managed to throw an odd item from the bag at me. I saw a metallic blur and heard and intense and sharp whoosh by the side of my head. Thankfully, whatever it was missed me, though it was an extra reminder of the danger of the situation, sending an extra wave of alertness through my body. Meanwhile, he still had a shortsword in his right hand. I continued forward. As he swung, I dived for his legs to get him to lose balance. We both fell to the floor in a wild and painful manner.

I drove the dagger into his chest before getting a chance to see exactly where it landed, then, well aware of how daring I'd been in the first place, rolled out the vicinity without withdrawing the dagger. Whether it was smart idea, I didn't know, but the desperate panic of the disadvantaged situation had told me to do it.

I tried to get back on my feet, but I staggered backwards as I grappled with momentum and gravity, eventually finding my back against the wall. Worse, I was unarmed. Vincenti's fangs were bared, and in his hand was a longsword. It had a subtle red glow. Enchantment, no doubt, and I didn't want to know what kind of pains that would add to the strike. Meanwhile, I was unarmed. I knew my doom would come about within the next few seconds if the situation didn't change drastically.

Vincenti made the decision to charge, and I had a grim idea of exactly how much damage such a huge weapon could do to my flesh; I'd seen **Goes-in-heavy** use swords like that on the target dummies in Gideon.

There was only one iota of hope to grasp onto, and that was the element of surprise. He sprung forward for the kill. I had to try. I too sprung forward, quickly delivering a punch to his face. The surprise of me charging at him had caught him off guard. Luckily for me, nothing in two-hundred years of experience had prepared him for that.

Vincenti grabbed his nose with his free hand and staggered back slightly. The attack had granted me a few seconds of liberty, and my body was still fresh and pure. I used the opportunity to back into the halls.

I could see an odd metal object on the floor of the hall way. It was thin and flat, with a hole in the center. Its shape was nearly indescribable, combining points and curves. Whatever it was exactly, it was the projectile Tienaava had nearly killed me with. Grabbing the light-weight metal, I had to hope I would be more lucky, because Vincenti Valteri was already coming forward. I threw the odd metal object. It glided through the air with swift and deadly precision, rotating at amazing speeds. It was Vincenti's flesh that stopped every component of its motion. It stuck solidly into his neck. He staggered backwards, stunned, his eyes wide, his face marked with fear. The last look I'd ever see on his face.

I could see **Cleaver** again. He was staggering wildly. He'd removed my dagger but was now helpless to the effects of blood loss. A sad and disturbing sight, but one I hadn't fully processed yet.

There was a finally thud, and various clatters, as my brother's body landed ineloquently somewhere out of my sight.

It was done. Silence. A necessary evil that would stick with me for ever. But was it necessary? I hated that question, yet I wondered if I should persue it.

Then I heard a sound I couldn't quite distinguish from my right. It sent an unpleasant tingling through my body. I heard it again. It was clapping. A robed figured flowed from out of the shadows, advancing, and clapping. It was Mr. Lachance, the man who had caused all this death. His face was plastered with a confident smile amid the gore and odd poses of death of the family members.

"The Ritual of Purification is complete. Well done. Sithis has been appeased, and the time has come to acknowledge, and reward, your unwavering loyalty. The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets few family members even know exist. Your life in the sanctuary is over. Those contracts are behind you now. Now you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve me. From this moment forward you will walk in the Shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun."


	37. Mysterious Attack

A/N: I've been talking with nightdragon0 about this story by e-mail a bit recently, and he convinced me to bring back an old idea for a plot-twist I'd previously scrapped for this chapter. Anyway, I think it will work into the plot quite nicely, so thanks nightdragon.

This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

(Tienaava): Living Quarters

* * *

There was silence. She was not responding. She had slaughtered her family mercilessly, and yet I would die with no clue as to what it was all about? **Stabber** and I were worried she might one day take the path of **Goes-in-heavy**; there was something deeper behind her greiving than simple loss. There were thoughts she was hiding. It was evident from the day we travelled back to Cheydinhal to the last time I'd seen her. Yet now it was clear Lucien had known. It was a moment I'd never imagined in my wildest dreams. 

I continued to lay on my back, trying to contain the blood. Last time I checked I'd spilled more than I estimated I had in my entire body. I didn't dare look again, though. I just silently prayed. There was no severe pain, oddly, only light-headed panic and a slight ache as I thought about the horrors of exactly what had been done to my body. They thought I was dead, no doubt, as they conversed in the hall. I could still breath, so my lungs were intact, but even so I hesitated to breath hard, or do anything that might reck the fragile safety of my current position. I knew I'd need to heal this wound soon, but I was afraid to get into any position where gravity could rob me of what little life I still had in me, even once they left this place.

Then the silence broke again. "Listen well, child. No longer will you receive orders directly. Instead you will visit dead-drop locations scattered throughout Cyrodiil. Your first dead drop can be found on Hero Hill, South-East of here. A hollow in a moss covered rock will contain all you need to know. Now return to me at Fort Farrgut, so we can make the final preparations for this new stage of your life's dark journey." Then there were footsteps, getting fainter slowly. Two pairs of feet. What did her silence mean. Bitter compliance? Quiet loyalty? Fearful obedience?

They were leaving, and I was here, a gaping wound allowing blood to flow from my body far too easily. I didn't dare look at the wound again. I knew I was only minutes, seconds even, away from death if I lost this fragile harmony with gravity. Yet I needed to stop the bleeding altoghether. I needed to heal. I was sure there was extra healing potion in the bag.

I knew I needed to stand up. I needed to hold the wound as best as I could with my hand to keep the blood in. Even so, I was hesitant to touch it. I was hesitant to confront the devistation to my body, worried that touching the area might set off some horrible pain, and worried simply out of fear of the unknown. None the less I lifted a shaking hand and slowly, gently, placed it over the broken scales. I let it settle briefly, being as tender to this door to death as I could.

Then I braced myself to stand, knowing my life was kept right now only by a very delicate balance.

I finally stood up, the implications of gravity immediatly dawning on me. I felt conciousness fading, and noticed my vision getting smothered in odd, dark colors. Weakness was engulfing me. In a moment of desperate panic I stumbled towards the bag, grabbed a bottle, and purposely fell onto my back again. Above me it looked as though oddly colored sparks were gliding above me. The product of a fading mind, most likely.

I was once again blind to my now-scarlet clothing and hands. I lifted my shaking hand from the wound, once again exposing the injury to the cold air of the sanctuary. I felt the glass bottle and uncorked it. Then, moving it carefully to the position I knew was just above my wound, poured the entire bottle. I felt an urge to cringe a moment before the liquid made contact, expecting pain to come to the wound at any instant, but it did not. I let my body relax again as the wound mixed with the healing potion, and I stared at the ceiling. I wasn't sure when I'd finally get up; I was afraid to, but for now everything was still. I could relax, and maybe try to put the pieces toghether, if I could think straight with all that had transpired.

M'raaj-Dar had attacked Feekaava just this evening. She left only briefly after that, and then I heard the noises, the thuds, the screams. Then Lucien showed up the applaud all this horror. He even mentioned Sithis being appeased.

And what about the others? What about **Stabber**? I had not heard her scream, and assumed she alright. But then where was she? If I was alive there should have been hope for the others.

That gave me a mission. I was part of something bigger: a collective soul of the Dark Brotherhood.

I grabbed the wound, which now had its own distinct tempurature from the healing potion it had been drenched with, and stumbled to my feet again, catching my balance right in front of the bag. There were two bottles. With my free hand, I crouched and reached in. I managed to grasp the tops of both bottles uncomfortably between the fingers of my free hand, then continued forwards, trying not to move any part of my body that I didn't need to. I wasn't sure how much the wound had been healed, and I was still somewhat light-headed from the blood loss. I knew I'd have to let go of the wound eventually, but I wanted to keep the wound contained as long as possible.

I made my way to the hall and turned my fragile body around. There were two family members motionless on the ground. Antoniette Marie, as I expected, and another: **Stabber. **Fluently accepting my duty as a Dark Brother, I took my hand off my wound. I was relieved to see the bleeding had stopped, but the sight of their bodies was a source of great panic.

I crouched quickly and felt for Antoniette's pulse, briefly steadying my shaking hand. _Nothing._ But I didn't dwell on it, my sister, my real sister, was more ingrained in my mind, and I quickly rushed over to her with a soldier's alterness and unhesitance.

She was on her back, holding her throat. It was a disconcerting sight. I now knew why she didn't scream. _Was that what Sithis wanted me to believe?_ Now my hand was quivering violently as I lowered it over the artery, knowing I was about to come to terms with the most significant truth of my life.

_Nothing._

(**Surveys-from-above**): Eastern Cheydinhal

* * *

Shifting my clothing carefully once again to conceal my lock-pick, I opened to door into the Cheydinhal night. Even as I walked East my eyelids felt heavy, and my preparations had been delayed by constant loss of focus. Even the crickets seemed to cherping faster because my mind was moving so slowly. I couldn't wait to have this last check of Fort Farrgut over so I could get some sleep. 

The night was placid, and I only wished I didn't have to delay from falling into its embrace. I'd become accustomed to the idea of helping **Learns-fast **with his mysterious new agenda, whatever that was, so visiting Fort Farrgut no longer got me charged up and filled with curiousity. _Nothing ever changes there._ All that changed was me, it seemed. I was starting to get homesick. No pleasure really felt complete without the loving touch of home. Everything I did here felt like killing time until I could get back to Gideon. No doubt **Distracts** and **Hides-in-shadows** would want to hear anything I could tell them.

I knew, whether I was truly enjoying it or not, this was an amazing oppritunity, to see Cyrodiil four years in advance that is, so I tried to soak up the ambience of Cheydinhal, reminding myself repeatedly where I was and what it was like. Even so it felt more like I was staring through Cheydinhal than staring at Cheydinhal in my current state of exhaustion.

I ran my hand across railing of the second bridge. Continuing East, I began thinking about Gideon again. There were some things there that it just seemed couldn't be replaced. If I had been a bit more awake, I would have worried about how I'd handle my transfer, even though that was four years away. Everything felt kind of withdrawn and artificial here with the urge to go home so prevalent.

Now I was very close to the Eastern wall. As I remembered, I needed only to turn left to see the other gate, through which I could exit, and then walk to Fort Farragut easily.

This mission was weird enough. As best I could guess, it was a test. That way they could get an idea of my skills and teach Mr. Lachance how to improve his security, or something. I couldn't imagine why else the Argonian Royal Court would want me to spy on him. It certainly felt funny.

Then the abandoned house came into view. Yet a moment before I could turn left I noticed the door to the normally stagnant house opened.

At first I wondered if it had been in my imagination, because imagination and reality felt hard to distinguish at the moment, but no, someone was coming out of that door. _An Argonian_. He was moving awkwardly, not quite stumbling, but akwardly none the less. There was a large blotch of crimson on his otherwise tan shirt. _Blood?_ He walked closer, my weariness vanishing. The house had been a curious enough anamoly every time I'd passed it, and now someone was coming out of it bloodied. It was eerie. I got a feeling like I was the play thing of higher, manevolent powers. A fear of the vast store of world-warping terrors the unknown might contain came to me. Then the bloody figure looked up at me. His face...I'd seen it before.

**Cleaver. **He seemed to share the recognition. It took me a few seconds for my mind to readjust after years without contact, but after that some form of brotherhood returned. He looked equally surprised.

"**Surveys, Surveys-from-above. What are you doing here?" **He inquired, his face showing stunned curiousity. Though I'd remembered his voice a bit differently, it was no doubt he. I didn't answer his question.

"**Cleaver?** **Why are...are you alright?"**

"**The entire sanctuary..." **He said, looking around as he talked, **"The entire sanctuary is dead. I was the only one who lived." **_The sanctuary?_ I knew the Dark Brotherhood had a sanctuary in Cheydinhal. Had the abandoned house been that sanctuary? It certainly seemed distinguishable enough.

I knew I'd never look at that house the same way again.

Tienaava continued, as I was entranced by his story. "**It was an inside job." **he sniffled, then continued "**It was Fights-up-close."**

At once I felt like I never knew her. I just couldn't imagine it.

I truly had a difference to make here, somewhere to progress. _But why? Why her? Why me? Why had she been granted such power against the more experienced agents?_ It all seemed achingly unreasonable.

"**She did? Why?**"

"**Something about...a purification**." He said. Tienaava looked down again, seemingly to wipe his eyes.

"**Where's **Lachance**? Did you tell him?**" Immediatly going into action mode, seeing a real threat in my midst and a serious reason to employ our skills

"**He...he gave the order**." At once it all unraveled itself. I'd naively assumed spying on Mr. Lachance was a test. A game. Now, if what **Cleaver** said was true...they'd turned against us. Everything I'd thought before this seemed like a sick joke. The world seemed like a whole new battlefield now. **"I think they went to Fort **Farragut**, but only for a short while. He mentioned something about...**Hero Hill**, to the South-East. A moss covered rock.**"

A new feeling of unity came over me. The Shadowscales were being killed off by their most trusted members, but **Cleaver **had managed to escape with some crucial intelligence. Even so, we were no doubt still in danger. It breathed a rare, new kind of life into the night. I had every intention to advance the next step towards the first idea that came to me to remedy the situation. **"Cleaver, Learns-fast is here with me back at one of the Inns here. We need to tell him. Follow me." **

I knew both our lives had changed forever.


	38. Following a lead

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 7, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Hero Hill

* * *

I knew I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. I had to wonder what all this information would feel like once I had slept and processed it all. It felt horrible enough now, and I feared sleeping might only make it worse.

Chances are it was technically morning already, though the night was black as could be. Without night-eye, it made no difference if my eyes were opened or closed; just blackness or darkly colored static could be seen ahead.

Their last moments kept playing in head. Gogron's surprise fall. Ocheeva's writhing in pain. Telandril's last words. Antoniette's sobs. Vincenti's neck being pierced. Tienaava's bleeding. The guilt stabbed me each time an image entered my head. All I could do was wince wait for it to finish its discipline. What a monster I must have looked like during their last moments! But I had been under orders. I just would have liked for them to know that.

At last I was next to the moss covered rock. Apparently there was a hollow area in it.

I began to feel around for this, even though my thoughts were elsewhere, and my reactions were slowed. I would be living without a family now. With that knowledge, I didn't feel like I could take comfort in anything.

Finally I found the hollow area. In it was a piece of paper. The new stage my life's "dark journey". Certainly it felt like a journey. All the trials, the devastating epiphanies, the way my view of the world was constantly getting reworked, the exhaustion. There was a sense of progress, but progress towards something frightening. The rough edges of my personality had probably been smoothed by all this, but what lessons I learned would be of no use by now.

I looked over the dead drop, though I had trouble focusing, and only took little of it in:

_Silencer, _

_You are now reading...which proves to me you were well-appointed to the...ahead. _

_Your first assignment requires you to eliminate not just one target, but five. An entire family, in fact. The unlucky siblings are... The locations of most of the family members are unknown, so you ... resides at the farm called Applewatch, a farm which should be... _

_You must discern...and find out if she has any valuable information on the whereabouts of her children, before ending her life. _

_When ... Chorrol for your next dead drop. At the foot of the Great Oak, hidden in the bushes, is an old sack. Inside ... information regarding your next contract. _

_Serve me well, Silencer, and there's no telling just how far you might advance._

No telling how far I might advance? It gave me more of a sense of hated-duty than promise of glory. Then again, accomplishing anything no longer made me feel glorious. It was just another frustrating reminder about what being a loyal servant of Sithis really meant, and to the dead family members, I looked like quite the opposite. Their last moments only saw my nastiness.

I had to read the contract again, because the first time through I didn't take much of it in.

I read the contract once more, trying to decide exactly what I was going to do:

_Silencer, _

_You are now reading your first dead drop note, here on Hero Hill, which proves to me you were well-appointed to the tasks that lie ahead. _

_Your first assignment requires you to eliminate not just one target, but five. An entire family, in fact. The unlucky siblings are Perennia Draconis, Matthias Draconis, Andreas Draconis, Sibylla Draconis and Caelia Draconis. The locations of most of the family members are unknown, so you should begin your search with the family matron, Perennia, who resides at the farm called Applewatch, a farm which should be visible from the North-West corner of the city walls. _

_You must discern the locations of all the Draconis family members and then systematically eliminate them. I suggest you first speak with the mother and find out if she has any valuable information on the whereabouts of her children, before ending her life. _

_When every member of the Draconis family lies dead, journey to the city of Chorrol for your next dead drop. At the foot of the Great Oak, hidden in the bushes, is an old sack. Inside you will find your reward for killing the Draconis family, as well as information regarding your next contract. _

_Serve me well, Silencer, and there's no telling just how far you might advance._

Oddly, I noticed the name "Caelia Draconis" wrung a bell, but I couldn't remember where I'd last heard that.

For once, I felt like I had a choice about this contract. That's the last thing I wanted, though: more calculating, more abstract thinking. Now that the question had come to mind, though, I knew I had to give it further consideration. To do otherwise would be weakness: damnable weakness, weakness of the soul. _Should I really continue to follow the man who'd ordered me to kill the entire sanctuary, including two Shadowscales?_

It seemed like so much work to think like this, but it was wrong to keep following blindly.

I tried to remember when all this questioning started.

It was with **Goes-in-heavy**'s betrayal. That opened the doors to bitter enlightenment, or perhaps malicious insanity. I needed to find out which:

He told me the Dark Brotherhood would take any contract that was backed up with money. He told me the Argonian Royal Court had deceived me, that we didn't protect or serve the tribals. He told me they shielded us from the world because knowing too much would cause betrayal. And it got to me, but the target of the contract I received right after hearing his case clearly deserved death. But what about Primo and Dovesi? They seemed to have sacrificed themselves for me, proving they had hearts for justice. Then I was nearly killed carrying out the assignment against Philida. Then the Purification came. Three times in a row it seemed the assignment I was given was...questionable. But was that a valid reason to betray? Oh how I hated these thoughts! It was happening again. My mind started out fluent, then the questions began to dominate the answers the longer I thought.

But what about the contracts before that? The pirate? He likely deserved death. Valen Dreth seemed to have been plotting something as well. Baenlin...I wasn't sure about.

It was three to three. If I had trusted these people my whole life, that should be sufficent.

I pledged to carry out the contract, shaking off the nagging doubt that proceeded the decision, because that seemed to come after every decision I made these days.

I'd made my decision. I tried to block out any other thoughts about it.

Now that I was done with that though, it brought me back to the blunt truth that I was going to be living without a family. Even so, it was a truth I had to face and, perhaps, eventually desensitize myself to it. But I knew it would be a while before I could do that when it proved so saddening right now.

I put the contract back in its original resting place, figuring the hiding spot was concealed enough, and the letter was ambiguous enough. _Off to Bruma. _

I turned to the North-West.

I thought I heard a faint male voice in the distance. It was just on the threshold of inaudible. It sounded familiar, but it was so subtle, I concluded I could have imagined it. Maybe staying up this late was taking a toll on me, even when I felt perfectly awake.

(**Learns-fast**): Approaching Hero Hill

* * *

I thought back to my days as a Royal Guardsman as we ascended the steep hill with my torch lighting our way. My dream of ascending to the top of the Shadowscale program so that I would be permitted to retire to the Royal Palace was now seeming less believable. It felt like I'd stumbled into a nightmare instead. 

I could feel nothing but discomfort with the two Shadowscales trailing behind me. I was totally baffled as to what I should tell them. Lucien Lachance, no doubt, was like a father to both of them. And **Fights-up-close**? I didn't know what to tell them about her either. She was under orders, so her behavior was, ironically, exactly what the Argonian Royal Court encouraged in its subjects, yet I felt like I couldn't tell that to either of the boys, especially when **Cleaver** just saw his sister die by her hand.

I'd let them think what they wanted about her for now, but I knew I had to make sure they didn't hurt her. Even so, I had a feeling I'd be seeing some ugly aspects of human nature soon enough. Worse, these were things I felt no eagerness to deny them. It would be tough to muster up the nerve to tell them to let the agent who'd killed the Cheydinhal sanctuary go unpunished. Not so much for **Survey's-from-above**, but for **Cleaver. **He was going through much worse than his younger counter-part: in his condition, I knew this journey would be strenuous, and I'd only given him a few minutes of rest and extra water to compensate. I was demanding a lot from him even though he was no longer in my possession according to the pact I signed with the Dark Brotherhood. I just had to hope the two Shadowscales realized they needed to hold back from the temptations that would be nagging at them and that they were strong enough to do it.

I had to hope we made the right move by avoiding Fort Farragut and heading straight to Hero Hill as well. Already I could tell Lucien had become the enemy. We were already planning against him, not just planning to gather information on him.

Slowly a moss-covered rock was coming into view. It was likely the one Tienaava was talking about, and held promise to further our investigation, bringing us closer to a surreal goal; to find and possibly kill Lucien Lachance.

Our climb was almost about to end. As I got closer I could see the rock looked a bit abnormal. It was odd to think a hollowed rock on a hill I was surprised even had a name could hold answers to one of the greatest mysteries I'd ever faced, but it seemed to be the case. Either way, it was far from the only wonder the night held.

When I finally made it to the top, I noticed the rock seemed to have a "lid" on it, moss covered as well.

I removed the covering on the rock. It was certainly an interesting hiding spot, and it was things like this that made the Dark Brotherhood fascinating. That fascination was what caused me to make the mistake of taking up a position in the Shadowscale program, though.

Inside was a note, completely alone, pointing all significance at a mere piece of paper. Just like everything in this business, it was small and light, but held great power when used intelligently:

_Silencer, _

_You are now reading your first dead drop note, here on Hero Hill, which proves to me you were well-appointed to the tasks that lie ahead. _

_Your first assignment requires you to eliminate not just one target, but five. An entire family, in fact. The unlucky siblings are Perennia Draconis, Matthias Draconis, Andreas Draconis, Sibylla Draconis and Caelia Draconis. The locations of most of the family members are unknown, so you should begin your search with the family matron, Perennia, who resides at the farm called Applewatch, a farm which should be visible from the North-West corner of the city walls. _

_You must discern the locations of all the Draconis family members and then systematically eliminate them. I suggest you first speak with the mother and find out if she has any valuable information on the whereabouts of her children, before ending her life. _

_When every member of the Draconis family lies dead, journey to the city of Chorrol for your next dead drop. At the foot of the Great Oak, hidden in the bushes, is an old sack. Inside you will find your reward for killing the Draconis family, as well as information regarding your next contract. _

_Serve me well, Silencer, and there's no telling just how far you might advance._

I froze after I finished the letter. _Silencer._ I'd heard of that rank. **Fights-up-close** had become Lucien's personal assassin...yet it was odd that the two of them were still using Black Hand rankings. How much did the Black Hand know?

The rest of the letter brought up even more questions than answers. My heart rate increased. Why was he targeting the entire Draconis family right after exterminating the Cheydinhal sanctuary? I only recognized one name: Caelia Draconis. She was a Leyawiin Guard Captain. _He's planning on assassinating her right after Philida? He's sending __**Fights-up-close**__ to do the job again? What if she is spotted again?_

I wanted to forget about this all, but obviously I couldn't. Waves of dread were coming over me as I realized the next course of action was not obvious. I knew I couldn't ask either of the Shadowscales for advice, especially not **Surveys-from-above**; that would send the wrong message.

I hated Lucien Lachance for his arrogance. It sickened me, and it was hard to think with that on my mind.

I stood staring at the paper, pretending to still be reading it. _What should we do?_

The best course of action was to head to Applewatch ourselves, I decided. Maybe, just maybe, we could find **Fights-up-close** there. But we couldn't sleep. Not tonight. We needed to further our mission.

I turned back to the **Cleaver** and **Surveys-from-above**.

"**I read it. We need to go up North-West, to a city called **Bruma"

I began walking in that direction, expecting them to follow. I tried not to show all the bizarre emotions that were going through my head at the moment. They probably had enough of their own.


	39. Reluctance

Sun's Height 8, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Near Applewatch

* * *

The sun setting over the Jeralls would probably have been a pretty site under most circumstances, but now everything about the world just seemed deformed and ugly, a monument to the horrors it contained. Its forces seemed to be working against me constantly. I was alone now, and constantly burdened with uncertainty. I was trapped in pain. 

As I rode closer to the farm I could see movement. Someone was working in the fields. Her life was probably flowing whimsickly along, whether or not she took time to realize it, while I had all this pain to contend with. I had indeed proved myself to Sithis. I was suffering in his name, in a pure and undeniable state. Every second of life just seemed like dragging a weight with all the heavy thoughts inside of me.

It became clear that the figure had long, gray hair. I was almost certain that was her. I rehearsed my story in my head as I walked. I always seemed to find a riskless way to handle these type of things, and this was no exception. The _Imperial Genealogy Department _was the name I'd invented, tracking a rare genetic disorder for the Council of Healers. It sounded plausible enough. This time, however, I didn't feel satisfied about it. Just one more check mark to put on Sithis' agenda, instead of mine.

I was getting ever closer. _You can just disappear into the woods right now and forget your life here. _The idea came to me, feeling as real as any other. _No!_ I repremanded myself. My thoughts were flowing too freely ever since the Purification.

Now I was close enough. I dismounted from my horse, letting my feet make as much noise as possible as they hit the ground to make her turn from work. She jerked slightly, as if startled, and then turned to me, dropping the tool she was using, and giving me a look of hazy confusion. She was approaching me with a hint of cautiousness.

"Oh, hello there. " she said "I'm sorry, you startled me. I'm afraid my nerves get rattled rather easily these days. Living alone will do that to you." I knew her words were true. For a second I wondered if that wasn't the only way we could relate. "Now, is there something I can help you with?" Oddly, it felt a bit harder to ask than I expected. She seemed kind enough. I had to push the words out.

"I need to find your children." I said, relieved when the words finally made their way out.

"My children? Whatever for?"

"I'm with the Im..." I began

"Oh, oh dear. Please excuse an old woman's stupidity." She said with a hint of chuckling in her voice "You're here to pick up my gift list!" Her voice was rich with enthusiasm. "Using your gift service was the smartest thing I've ever done! My children are scattered all across Cyrodiil, and its so hard to shop for them all!" She fished through her pocket, finally removing a crumpled piece of paper, then politely flattening it as much as she could, and handing it to me. "Here's a list of all my precious little ones, although I daresay they're not so little anymore." She chuckled "They grow up so fast, I swear!" Already warm and friendly. I glanced down at the list "The list shows each child's location and some suggestions for gifts. Oh, and here's the gold I'm supposed to give you." I looked up to see a bag in her hand. I grabbed the top, and, as I expected, it was heavy for its size. "Thanks again. My children are so dear to me and I'd really like you to get them something special!"

I looked down at the list. I was already feeling a strong reluctance to kill her, and this certainly was a welcomed excuse to delay:

_Dear courier, _

_I would like to thank you again for agreeing to assist me. I was so delighted when a friend recommended you, and will certainly employ your services again in the future if everything goes well with this round of purchases. You can imagine how difficult it is for an old woman such as myself to get around. My children, darlings that they are, deserve the best, and I'm afraid I haven't been able to properly show my love and appreciation for them in quite a few years. But all that is behind me now! Here is the list of gifts I think my family would most enjoy, as well each child's current place of residence, which should be used to for delivery. _

_Matthias -- Talos Plaza District, Imperial City (he has a home there): Matthias always was a rough and tumble lad. The last I'd heard, he'd fallen in with some pretty tough characters there in the Imperial City. I'd feel so much better if I knew he was well protected, so I'd like for you to find him a nice cuirass. Nothing too light -- iron or steel should be fine. And, if possible, I'd like it engraved with "To my Dear Matty, I'll always be here to protect you, love Mum." _

_Andreas -- The Drunken Dragon Inn (he owns the place and lives there as well): Andy has been brewing his own beer and spirits since he was six years old. The opening of that inn was the happiest day of his life. I'd like for you to get him some new tavern glasses. I'm sure there are craftsmen in the Imperial City who could make a fancy set from frosted ebony or Altmeri crystal. _

_Sibylla -- Muck Valley Cavern. Yes, my daughter lives in a cave, and no, I'm not very happy about it. Sibby has always loved animals (almost as much as Andy loves beer) and a couple of years ago she apparently thought it a good idea to abandon the Empire and live as a savage with the rest of the animals. In that time, I'm afraid Sibby has kind of... cracked. She's basically as wild as the beasts she lives with. What can I do? I'm Sibby's mother and I'll always love her. She obviously doesn't want or need anything from civilized society, so what I'd like you to do is find a tanner and secure the largest fur blankets you can possibly find. The last time I saw Sibby she was nearly naked, and I can't imagine there's much in that cave to keep her warm. When you do bring them to Muck Valley Cavern, be careful! The wild animals are bad enough, but Sibby herself will probably attack anyone on sight. _

_Caelia -- Castle Leyawiin (you'll find her in the barracks): My beautiful Cae! My dearest daughter broke so many hearts when she was younger. But now that she's an officer in the Leyawiin Guard I'm afraid she's let herself go a bit. Not gotten fat! By Mephala, not that! But she's settled into a more... practical kind of look. Even a bit boyish, I guess you could say. So what I'd like you to do is get my Cae as much pretty "girl" stuff as you can. Flowers, perfume, Nord chocolate, that sort of thing. _

_You've already received half your fee in advance, and will receive the remainder after the gifts have been purchased and delivered, as we originally agreed. Thank you again for providing such a valuable service. _

_Sincerely, _

_Perennia Draconis _

I felt totally unprepared for this. The old woman was back to her field work, but there was no passion for the kill in me. Normally if the kill had been so easy, the art of assassination would have flowed right out of me, but now something was holding it back.

I had no idea why she could possibly be a target in the first place. Like **Goes-in-heavy** had said, they weren't telling me anything. I couldn't imagine what kind of crimes could lie behind her innocence.

I realized the longer I stood there, the more suspicion I would arouse. I needed to make a decision. I wanted to let her be, but I knew my duties. Even so...what if Goes-in-heavy was right? His words seemed to be coming true the more I looked at to the world.

It was heart-breaking. My employers had given me everything I had, and now I was seriously considering betraying them, all because I was loyal to the principles I thought they stood for. Loyal indeed, to make myself go through all this suffering, when I could just let the world take its normal flow. It made me feel lonely enough to know the sanctuary was gone, but to suffer like this all alone, cynical of everyone, made me feel so bitter.

I could betray them right now. I just had to walk away from this contract. It was a simple decision, but one that would have a significant effect on the course of things. _No_! It was too early to spot a pattern. If it happened again, if I got another seemingly unjust contract, I'd give betrayal consideration. Right now, I had to kill the old woman. I knew she wouldn't put up much of a fight. It was what was inside me that made me more worried.

I unsheathed my dagger with a quivering hand. Normally this task would have been so easy, but the turbulence in my mind was creating more problems than the outside world

My heart was pounding, and my mind was racing. I was once again going to need to break through an emotional barrier to change another fate. I took a step closer and raised the dagger.


	40. Convolution

A/N: I decided to have extensive memories seperated from the rest of the text by lines. Keep in mind, unless it says the name of a character above the line, it is not a prespective change. The same will not be true for dreams, however.

Anyway, here's where a pretty major component of the plot is introduced. I just hope my ideas aren't a little too weird. I admit its a risky path for this story to take, but hopefully it will shape up to be interesting. Plus, taking liberties becomes pretty important when writing a story about the Dark Brotherhoood questline.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Outside of Chorrol

* * *

I was close now. I'd pinned his location down to the exact city. Even so, I knew this wouldn't stay so easy. In the maze of buildings Chorrol would provide, his path would become much harder to follow. For now at least, as he walked the last road to Chorrol, I felt secure about this. I had accomplished quite a bit by following him this far. 

It was times like this when all the wrongs they'd done to me came back. Their pompous disregard for my feelings, the selfishness of the Dark Brotherhood, and the rage it caused me, and how helpless and pathetic I'd looked to them for so long ago:

* * *

First it was the gasps down stairs. I had felt that the darkness would hold mysterious terrors that night, and now it was undeniable. 

I wondered if I should stay in harmony with the silence by staying in bed, or find harmony with the shadows by hiding under it. Though I didn't remember exactly what drove me to do so, I chose the latter.

In a daring moment, I had gotten out of my bed. A shock went through my body during the brief time I was out in the open, vulnerable to what ever the terrors were, my mind rushing with all the pain and fright they could cause me. I crawled my way under it in fear, feeling the closest thing to relief I could. Then there was heavy running up the stairs. Two sets of feet. A true threat was approaching. Who, or what it was, I still didn't know. I knew, though, that after this, my life would never be the same.

I couldn't imagine what was happening. It was like the fabrics of reality were ripping apart to reveal the evil behind them that had been watching and waiting for me, smothering me in a sea of unknown so I could die looking pitiful. I wondered if my life was already at someone else's mercy, and what that last moment would feel like.

My door burst open. I could see a set of feet. I recognized Mother's shoes. Was I to die as a child, slaughtered helplessly, giving into a monster? The suspense was torture. I could only imagine what had chased her all the way into my room.

"No! Please Lucien!"

"I'm sorry, Nicolette, but I've already told you too much. If you had joined the Dark Brotherhood, this wouldn't be necessary. Now, however, I can't risk you telling anything." Daddy.

Then there was a sharp, metallic whoosh. That was the end of her life, and beginning of the life I knew now.

* * *

From that point forward, my hands felt like they were glued to weaponry. Vengeance had become the point of my existence, and the measure of my worth. My heart had hardened, and my fists only felt natural clenched. At this moment, however, I could embrace my hatred, because I knew I'd see results soon enough. Normally recollections of Mother's death only caused me sleepless nights, but now it was a useful fuel. I would make her proud. 

(Champion of Cyrodiil): Chorrol, Arborwatch Bedroom

* * *

Finally the screams were gone. I was back outdoors, yet each second carried more unthinkable pain for Mankar Camoran's victims, even if I was not there to hear it. Yet even with all the passion I felt towards destroying the Mythic Dawn, I couldn't deny the seductive beauty of his "Paradise". Peace so close, yet so far. 

This whole time I'd been fueled by a blunt urge to destroy Camoran. I couldn't hate him: he decieved himself into believing what he'd done was right, but I couldn't feel compassion for him either. I didn't want to see him in pain, yet I wanted to see his doom to no end. I wanted to meet him and beat him in battle, almost a gamey urge for competition, but coupled with the highest forces in the universe counting on me.

The tree branches swayed, and the sun continued to shine its golden light in eternal twilight. The entire scene was mystically placid.

But a question danced in back of my mind: was this divinity I was looking at, feeling, experiencing? It seemed to have a calming power considering the severity of the horrors I'd witnessed here, and the works of Mankar Camoran seemed to pale in comparison to that of the Nine. This "Paradise" could be defeated, but could I really take the Nine Divines seriously after seeing such a display of power from these Daedra worshipers?

Only once had I seen the power of the Nine clearly displayed, and that was when I was sent to the Imperial Prison under such mysterious circumstances. Though that occurrence fascinated me at one point, it now seemed cheap and tacky, seeing all the Daedra and their followers were capable of. Now the Mythic Dawn seemed like an entirely new enemy. At first I figured them for a bunch of fools over-estimating their own power and intellect. Now I wondered if that is what we had been. If I lost this battle, that would certainly be the case.

I could see a branching path emerge as I continued up the hill. All of it was my enemy's territory, maybe his very being. Here I was a defile, a sinner. The thought weighed on me heavily, but I felt it was already too late to turn back. If the Daedra were truly worthy Gods, they should be able to defeat the likes of me, a mortal. Is that why Camoran wanted to meet me? To battle me to test his theory? I could sense glimmers of knowledge in his words. Maybe our minds had something in common.

Regardless, I was fighting against powers I couldn't fully comprehend, yet they comprehended me and my kind just fine. They knew how to seduce a mortal, how to make us feel fear, and how to turn us away from our rulers. They truly did look more like gods than the Nine Divines did, but I didn't want to consider that all this suffering may have indeed been the divine plan. Such a thought seemed to mar the entire universe. But did Mankar Camoran think me to be part of his plans? He said he wanted to see me, and I saw no reason not to obey.

Finally, I came to the T-junction. I took the path to the right, noticing a beautiful white gold building. I had seen ruins like it throughout Cyrodiil, but never thought of them as more than vestiges of a more primitive civilization. Now I saw something new in them: a deeply moving beauty and power. I knew I'd never look at anything the same way again now that I'd seen this "Paradise".

There were two robed figured standing on the steps to the palace. Both of the robed figures were walking to me, gracefully. They wore the uniform of my enemies, and I could feel an inner push to destroy them, but I did not. I needed to see why Mankar wanted me. I walked towards them as well. I did not let my posture indicate aggression or submission. I let them make the judgements. I felt like a child in their presence.

Then I recognized both faces. One I recognized from the Mythic Dawn shrine, when I'd tried to save the Argonian prisoner. The other was the agent who'd killed Baurus, when I still figured the Mythic Dawn for simple, over-confident maniacs. Now, here we were, enemies in war, meeting together as I wondered what they saw in me. It was all moving in a bitter-sweet way, beneath all I felt against them.

Then she was close.

"You did not expect to see me here, did you?" She asked with only a hint of anger. I didn't speak. I felt like a mere pawn right now, thrown around by currents of divinity, and was grateful she showed such unexpected mercy, considering what I'd done to her. She spread her arms and gestured to the world around her. "You have no grasp of the power my father has at his command!" I didn't protest it in the least. Even she couldn't accurately capture the truth of her words. Then, in a silky tone, as tauntingly peaceful as 'Paradise' itself, she spoke the words "Come. My father is waiting to welcome you to Carac Agiala."

Mercy? Forgiveness? A ploy? What was it? It was like a dream overlapped by a nightmare here in "Paradise". No. It was like waking from a dream, from the insignificant Tamriel to see the universe in its fullness, and to feel its vast, soul-stirring power. All my life in Tamriel now felt insignificant. A pass time. Practice for this moment, maybe.

I followed her into the palace, submissive towards my enemies for the first time ever. I had once felt unstoppable, but now it seemed like I was already their servant.

I was not yet even in the palace, and already I was filled with painful worries. Could I really defy him, even with what might become of me if I were defeated? _Yes,_ because if I succeeded I could save countless others from the same fate, but it crushed me to know the risks my heroics carried, and the pain my strength could cause me.

She touched the door to the palace. The crystal-esque pieces of it lit up, and it opened on its own. I'd seen and realized so much here. In a dreaded sort of way, it seemed plausible this was indeed the place souls belonged. Tamriel felt comparatively...artificial, waiting for true divinity to find it. Its people had always drifted aimlessly looking for the answers they should already have had, while the Mythic Dawn seemed to have learned these answers. Why did the Nine leave their supposed creations with so little knowledge and power, while Mehrunes Dagon gave so much to his direct followers?

Now I could see my enemy. Mankar Camoran sat proudly at the throne, his body only a small part of the powers at his command. An odd mist sat infront of him. The two other Mythic Dawn agents, Raven and Ruma I now realized, were walking ahead. I could see a confident understanding and purpose in the way they moved, while mortals hesitated and wondered. I felt more and more pathetic the longer I stayed here, but every second, there was more pain and suffering back where I'd come from. None the less, I knew a mistake here might cost me eternity, so I tried to be as complacent as possible right now. I mimicked their pace, walking towards the man I'd declared my enemy. I was representing the Nine and the mortals in the world Daedra and immortals controlled.

As I came closer, Camoran rose gracefully. I went up the steps to his throne, and heading to the very plateau he was standing on, trying to make myself look as tall as possible in his presence, whether he summoned me here to serve him or fight him.

"I have waited a long time for you, Champion of _Old_ Tamriel." He said, I finally stepped up right infront of him, but I wasn't kidding anyone. He was still taller than me, and he had power encompassing the very ground beneath me, while mine extended only a bit further than my body.

He looked down at me, his expression neutral, not needing aggression or fear to motivate his words, while I stood below him, knowing eternal suffering could come any minute. There was no way to comfort yourself with such a horrible truth. I was being pushed around by the currents of divinities. I had little say in the matters, and, even if I succeeded, I knew what I'd seen in this place would haunt me forever.

"You were the last gasp of a dying age. How little you understand! You cannot stop Lord Dagon! The walls between our worlds are crumbling. The lines now blurred will be erased, Tamriel and Oblivion rejoined! The Mythic Dawn grows nearer with every rift in the firmament! " He cried with an enthusiasm that was well-warranted "My vision shall be realized! Weakness will be purged from the earth, and mortal and immortal alike, purified in the refiner's fire!" He shot his fist into the air. He had undying confidence, while I was unsure about the very basics of the universe, lost and fearful in a world of wonder, unsure what forces were really backing me. "My long duel with the Septims is over, and I have the mastery. The Emperor is _dead_, the Amulet of Kings is _mine_, and the last defender of the last ragged Septims stands before me, in the heart of my power." There was a brief silence. I awaited Mankar Camoran's next words. I knew they would mean everything.

They arrived. "Your mind seems keen, and your heart seems strong, yet you submit yourself to the service of false-Gods and their unthinking mortals." His tone sounded like it was conveying on objective fact. Perhaps it was. With this power, he might have seen the most basics workings of the universe from angles others could not, turning belief into knowledge. "Have you perhaps mistaken your destiny? Your first encounter with the Septim pretender." I knew it wasn't a question. It was enlightenment, the stacking of knowledge, yet I still could not fully see what he meant. "Did you think yourself destined to carry his amulet? Not at all. You were the one crowned by fate to carry out the task of his death. You felt threatened, and though you denied your fate, you felt hesitance to protect him before the Mythic Dawn struck down the oldest living Septim, the blow meant for your weapon."

A bizarre feeling swept me at his implications. Had I indeed mistaken the purpose of my existence? There was silence as I thought about it, and the more cases I ran through in my mind, the more often it seemed to apply. 'Wow' was all I could think to myself. Mankar continued "And it was fate that brought you here to my throne at Carac Agiala, unharmed. You have proven yourself worthy in mind and spirit, friend or foe. Now you may turn your back on your false Gods, who have cursed you with death, ever impeding your progress and diminishing your true power. In Lord Dagon's service you may relish in and spread the gift of eternal life and know a world fit for your strength." There was silence. I began imagining it all in my head, calculating, examining the most basic levels of the world's mechanics. All this anguish, passion, triumph, defeat, journeying, maturing. Now I had come home? Would I suffer like the others? That seemed inevitable, whatever course I took. Now I had an opportunity to accept eternal life here. If I were to destroy Camoran, no such opportunity presented itself. I would suffer, but not like those in the Forbidden Grotto.

Then an epiphany came, pure and logical: Death was a failsafe. It ensure we could only endure so much suffering. The world needed it.

Though it was daunting to decide the fate of the world there and then, I had a bit of reasoning to fuel me, and that was enough.

'No' was the word I had planned. I felt hesitant to put the words into the air, but did it on a moment's courage. "No." I said, violently shattering the suspense. My fate was sealed. I could feel an tingling sensation running through my body. The implications of the situation filled my mind nearly to a bursting point.

Mankar looked surprised, though not yet offended. I continued. "No. All you've granted them through your 'gift' is the ability to suffer endlessly. At least mortality can prevent that." Then I stretched out a shaking hand.

"I've come for the Amulet of Kings." I said. My voice quivered, revealing all the emotion I'd been trying to hide, but I'd appeared timid enough already. Now I was coming off as relatively strong. Now I could feel myself disconnect from Camoran completely.

"You came for the Amulet? Take it then!" He shouted. At that moment, I knew the eagerness to unleash destruction captivated both of us.

I immediately whipped out my sword, hearing a high pitched noise as it sliced the air. Not wasting a second, I reversed the pulling motion into a swing. A weak swing, but enough to cut through flesh. Yet I realized I had it unsheathed no sooner than Camoran had taken his staff from his back. Camoran blocked the swing immediately. The metal and wood collided. A fury overcame. How dare he deny me this! "I welcome the contest!" He yelled.

I rolled out of the way before he could release any magic from the staff. His two children had already summoned armor. I knew now I was fighting to change the very fundamentals of the universe, a cause with utmost meaning, granting me the utmost passion. Without exaggerating, I believed I was witnessing the most dramatic moment in history.

I swung my sword mercilessly as his daughter approached. She was charging mindlessly, nothing but a small dagger in hand, while I was desperate like never before to protect every inch of my vulnerable mortal flesh, and damage every available inch of theirs. My first hit made contact with her armor. I hated myself for the clumsy swing. I moved as fast as I could backwards, trying to avoid the impending doom. She continued to charge, a manifestation of my greatest fear. "You fool!" She cried ecstatically "I am immortal here!" My next slash managed to contact her dagger holding arm. It had a solid effect, cleanly taking off half of her arm. It was satisfying enough to see her spill any blood. That made make my path just a bit clearer to the source of my rage and panic, her father. Her brother was still presenting imminent danger to my right, though. A large daedric claymore, ready to destroy everything that kept me from the fate of the others in the garden, was coming down towards me. Fear exploded throughout my body, as well as guesses of what its contact with my flesh might feel like.

I rolled to the side, his claymore hitting the stone floor of the palace instead. Yet I was on the ground with my enemies in a position of advantage, undeterred by ideas of mercy.

I scrambled to my feet, barely recovering my balance, and charged towards the blue robes of Mankar Camoran with a solid urge to destroy and set the world right. It was a cause so pure it washed away any hesitance.

A red magical projectile was shot at me, noiseless and carrying no wind. It missed. That was his first, and perhaps last blunder. I continued forward, my passion pure, excitement building up inside me that I might finally be able to destroy him, and, according to Martin, destroy all of his "Paradise".

Yet my strike was not met with Camoran's flesh. To my grave disappointment he'd executed and successful block again. I felt so mindless. "Old Tamriel still has some fight left in her!" he cried. He couldn't have been more right. That's all Tamriel had in her before I left, and that's all I had in me now. He was a manifestation of smug evil to me at that moment.

My sword broke free only to meet with another hindrance. Mankar's staff became a blur as I felt a hard blow to the side of my face. The shock rang throughout my head as I stumbled to the side. The pain seem to shoot through the center of my brain. I put up my shield to block his next shot, a success, but I could feel the pain growing in the area I was hit. It had been a merciless blow, just like everything else in this fight.

"Your efforts are in vein, mortal." I heard from my left. I did feel like I was astonishingly in over my head from the very start, but now I'd exhausted all other alternatives. I knew I wasn't yet losing, and I was all to eager to demonstrate what I was capable of some more. I had to cling onto the last iota of hope for Tamriel.

I reoriented myself to find I was a third of the way up a stair case to the palace balcony. Raven, still slighter lower than me, attempted another swing at me with his claymore, this time swinging and to the side so I couldn't evade him the same way as last time. I jumped, his claymore meeting air again. His sister was behind him, trailing bodily fluids from the wound I'd inflicted, but welcoming their free flow none the less. She had simply pried the dagger from her severed arm and transferred it to her remaining hand. She was immortal, after all, and not long after her blood loss reached lethal levels, she would come back with a crisp, new body. I had almost everything to fear, they had almost nothing to fear. Even so, I tried ignore them at the moment. My focus was on their father. I would kill him, and put a stop to this blatant evil. I would make the most significant shift for good ever.

I charged again, this time attempting to stab. Yet I was too eager, stabbing too quickly in my desperation. I was just out of range, and timely back-pace of Camoran left me with nothing. How I yearned to feel the metal contact flesh. I moved forward again and attempted a swing, immediately resuming the destructive momentum within me, but it was blocked again. It seemed so...cheap that he was always able to escape death that way. I braced myself to dodge. Already the last hit to side of my face felt like it had left an imprint.

But no swing came. There was only a distant rumbling. Time seemed to stop. There was silence. I could hear no movement behind me, and see none in front of me. Even I was frozen, baffled by my enemy's response.

"The last gate has been opened. Our victory is complete." Mankar announced. "Your cause is lost." This terror had swallowed up all hope and I was at the center of divinity, hated by it. The truth smothered me. "To destroy me would be to destroy all of Tamriel." He said with a smug smile.

_All you've granted them through your 'gift' the ability to suffer endlessly_. My own words came back to me. The blunt and harsh truth was in front of me. I would have to cast Tamriel into eternal blackness. Every cause was truly lost. That was the best the world could hope for: nothing at all.

Immediately my mind rushed for some other solution, but all I found were more reason to indeed do what Mankar Camoran was pompously assured I would not. What had life before this moment been like? More suffering. Nirn served as only a medium for injustice. The amoral prospered, while the virtuous were bound by their own restrictions. The heros faced war, while the cowards stayed safe. Though the truth hurt me at the deepest levels, it was clear. Creation itself had been a mistake, regardless of who was behind it.

"So be it." I said, hating how the words felt in my mouth, and in the air of 'Paradise', acknowledging the crushing epiphany.

Mankar Camoran was off-guard, and I quickly stabbed him. He grabbed the wound with a stunned silence. I was approaching the last moments I'd ever know. There was silence from behind. I had just done the final good the world would see: Its own destruction.

Mankar fell to his knees, his expression still conveying infinite shock. He was right, I had breathed the air of false-hope. The only way to stop the propagation of injustice was to get rid of its breeding ground. As he got closer to the ground, closer to death, I suddenly felt unbearably lonely, but the cold hard logic of it was clear: I had made the right choice.

I stood quivering, waiting for the last of his life to leave his body, the pain of knowing that the universe was better off dead growing in me. But there was no regret. The pain would be over soon.

Then darkness swept, flooding from the spot of his corpse, began expanding outwards . Yes, little more than a second and I would be there, in the darkness. No more forces pulling me in any direction. That was eternity.

Soon I could see naught but darkness. I looked down. My own body was gone. Behind me, Raven and Ruma were gone. Yet I was thinking.

Then, amid the seeming nothingness, I heard a motherly voice. I could take it in fully, no other distractions.

"Do not be fooled by our convolution. Come to me, and we will set the course for our true goal once again together. We need only..."

Then everything around me began to fade, fast. Or rather, everything around me started to emerge, to become. Reality, color, light, and chaos were coming into being.

The abrupt change left me feeling disoriented. I laying somewhere, a cold sweat drenching my body. I was back in this awful place; reality.

My eyes took a bit of time to focus, but I noticed a dark anomaly.

"The information you have provided us with has indeed proven useful. Adamus Philida is dead. You are now part of the family." A man...Lucien, I realized, said, smiling. His smile was a tell tale sign he was another person who fed off the injustice of the world. He was not burdened with examining the problems on which the very foundation of Nirn was built upon. It took me a few seconds to remember exactly what he was talking about, after my rude awakening. I struggled to keep my eyes opened.

"The Black Hand is quite pleased with your admission into our family. You have proven yourself worthy to join the Dark Brotherhood." It was slowly coming back after returning from the dream. The decision I'd made back in Mid Year. The talk with Chancellor Ocato. What I'd told them about Adamus Philida. I continued trying to poor over it all. I was one step closer to my new cause, a cause I hardly wanted to think about. He was ignorant to all that was rushing through my head. The dreams, the research, the bitter wisdom, and the suspicion. I was already surprised by how eagerly they welcomed someone like me into their ranks "But know this," he continued "Every Dark Brother or Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis." Chaos, doom, and discord. The

words left me with more to ponder, unfortunately. Chaos is exactly what turned me away from the teachings of the Nine and Mankar Camoran once and for all. It was the mark of evil. Yet the void as well? No, I couldn't turn them away now. The blood had already been spilled. Whatever happened, I'd have more influence from inside their ranks. The words from the dream came back to me. _Do not be fooled by our convolution_. I knew what they meant. The Dark Brotherhood was not always so focused on sadism, or, incidentally, profit.

Though I hesitated briefly, dreading more food for thought, I knew it was my duty to ask. "And who is the Night Mother, really?"

"We praise our Unholy Matron. From her shadowed womb we were born. From her breast we suckle malice and pain." He seemed to be savoring every word "She loves her children, you see." He finished with a smile. His answer was vague and discouraging. I was unsure how to respond. I knew _he_ was the enemy, but I couldn't say the same about the organization itself. The complexity of it all frustrated me, dragging on the anguishing hours of my waking life. No words came to me.

"You prefer silence then? As do I, dear child, as do I. For is silence not the orchestration of death, very symphony of Sithis himself? Ironic, then, that I come to you as Speaker for the Black Hand; one of many individuals who are interested in you. Indeed, Speaker Uvani has consented to meet with you, and has traveled to Bruma for this special occasion. Now listen closely. Directly west of the town gates to Bruma lies Olav's Tap and Tack. That is the Inn at which you will meet Speaker Uvani, so the Black Hand can discuss your future. He tells me he needs no less more than two days to make preparations. You will meet him there, am I correct?" Joining the Dark Brotherhood...a guild of paid assassins. The idea rang with uncertainty in my head endlessly, but no, I'd proven the circumstances justified it so many times. I had to answer before I changed my mind.

"I accept," I said, though the words seemed to hurt my throat. I was joining to fight for a cause I could hardly stomach. Even when I was part of their family, I couldn't have felt more lonely. I had a duty to show them no compassion. They were the convolution, hindering the Dark Brotherhood's true goal, shifting its focus to their own agendas.

"Splendid." He said smoothly "Now I'm afraid we must take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I am eager to see the benefits your fame, experiences, and talents may bring us. Welcome to the family." I was now deep into an amoral criminal organization. Deep in enemy territory, another stage of my anguishing journey.

He turned to leave, all but his hands shrouded in the pure black of the robes. His back was turned. The idea to kill him now popped into my head, but I quickly reminded myself of my reasons for joining in the first place. These days, just about every bizarre idea seemed to pop into my head, because the righteousness path had become so hard to detect.

I could hear his feet drop down the stone steps as I sat in bed to ponder thoughts he likely never expected in my head. There was so much about me people would never have expected. I envied them for not having to deal with this turbulence in their life like I did, and hated that most of them were probably exempt from this suffering simply for their cowardice. I hoped it was something else, maybe their faith in the false divinities. Maybe that was the knowledge that hurt me: I knew our creators weren't divine: Everything the Nine let happen during the Oblivion Crisis proved that to me. I had to hope that was the case, at least. I would hate to believe the people I was close to were just cowards.

Then my thoughts came back to the dream I'd had. I was still trying to weed out real memories from fiction, my mind still not working at its full potential due to the untimely awakening:

Obviously Camoran didn't manage to totally erase the lines between Oblivion and Nirn. Obviously Nirn wasn't destroyed, since I was still here, but I knew that dream, like so many others, had been nearly identical to what actually happened there. Mankar's ex-Lieutenant had been there when it really happened, and Mankar had been killed before I could have been horrifically enlightened to the unjust mechanics of the world the Nine created. But beyond those minor details, from what I recalled, the dream was accurate.

It wasn't the first time I'd had a dream about Paradise: those hours in Paradise had been burned into my mind. It also wasn't the first time I'd heard that motherly voice at the end of a dream either, though she had different words each time. My dreams seem to be there to remind me about what I'd learned. I was always "re-enlightened" by the end of them.

The occurrence at the end of this latest dream really fascinated me, though. If the lines between Nirn and Oblivion had really been erased, would killing Mankar Camoran have destroyed everything? I considered this for a second, then decided it couldn't have happened that way. Oblivion obviously survived Camoran's death, given that portals to Mehrunes' plane opened up in the Imperial city. Paradise was somehow separate from Oblivion. None the less, it was a profound moment. And it raised another question...did Nirn have an anchor?

I laid back down. Rain continued to pour as I reflected. There was something in the situation I could take pleasure in, for once, at least. The grueling months of decision making had finally come to an end. I was in the Dark Brotherhood.

It had been enough of a struggle deciding whether or not to contact the Dark Brotherhood to kill Valen Dreth. He had taunted me about his plans for after his release; crimes that would bring him wealth and power, yet I had no proof to show to the guards.

I had been reluctant to supply the Dark Brotherhood with money for the contract. Only after I'd proven to myself countless times that it was right did I finally contact them. During that time, I thought constantly about the nature of their line of work, and about death. That's when I was enlightened, though I knew the ideas of my enlightenment had been brewing in the back of my mind ever since I was in "Paradise".

When I asked about joining they gave me the proposal for membership: to gather enough information on Philida to determine when he would be relatively vulnerable. Learning such things were easy; they'd never suspect the Champion of Cyrodiil's innocent questions to be used to murder an Imperial Legion Captain. It was trying learn about the Dark Brotherhood, and sifting through that knowledge to decide if they could truly bring me closer to my new mission, which seemed far more brutal. The stress, the uncertainty, and constantly having to remember the horrible place Nirn really was is what made it so hard. But the information I gathered was useful. I learned of their top-notch training, of their reverence for the Void, and their changes over the centuries. They weren't always a business.

Finally I decided to tell them what I'd learned about Philida's location. Now Philida was dead. It had probably been reported in the news already, though I felt reluctant to stare my deeds in the face.

I climbed may way back under the covers and closed my eyes. Tranquil darkness. A vision of the future.

(Mathieu Bellamont): The Great Oak, Chorrol

* * *

Now I had a decision to make. Follow Lucien to his next location, or see what he left under the tree? On one hand, I'd only have one chance to follow him. On the other, he would probably just be heading back to Fort Farragut. Which would allow me to bring them more pain, to eliminate the vile piece of my family history once and for all, to redeem myself from being a victim, to strike a new fear in their wicked hearts? My heart was pounding as the thoughts of revenge came back. This was the right time for them, though. I'd suppressed them beneath a level of tension and false-friendship before, feeling invalid guilt as I forgot my true mission. The injustice of what they'd done to me was so hard to face before now, before I felt fully confident. Now I could face it eagerly, though, because I knew there'd be progress soon enough. But what should I do? That was the answer I needed. 

I decided to check what he'd left under the tree instead. I surveyed the area, and, seeing no one, stepped out from my shadowy hiding spot.

The wakefulness and guttural passion grew greater as I approached, as well as an odd apprehension. The spirit of the fight was coming to me again as I arrived at the Great Oak. The passion to bring about that one day when the Dark Brotherhood would have to face down someone in a fair fight, when I would be able to release years of rage I'd locked away, was coming back, and to spy on them made me feel so free. But there was an odd apprehension standing in my way which I needed to wade through.

I felt through the nearby bushes until my hand came upon something. It was a sack, and under it, a piece of paper. I lifted up the sack, noticing its heavy weight for its size. There was a piece of paper under it. I lifted that with my other hand, straining my eyes to make out the letters through the fuzzy darkness. My heart began to beat faster. I read the words of my enemy. It was a thrill to spy on them like this:

_If you are reading this, the entire Draconis family is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as a Silencer has just begun. _

_Your next assignment brings you to the Imperial City. Your target is a member of the Black Horse Courier staff, Agacia Amelius. I have been unable to pin-point her exact location, but she will surely be found in the Black Horse Courier offices during working hours, and be of little danger even if confronted directly._

_When Agacia lies dead, journey to the city of Bravil. In the backyard of the chapel, behind a bush, you will find your reward for the Agacia contract, as well any further assignment I might have._

As I held the document, my hand was quivering with the lust to meet my enemy again. Somehow, this letter must have presented a weakness. It reminded me of the time I'd found the latest status report on the Black Hand from the drawers in Belarius Arius' desk.

Then an idea came to me! I realized this was an opportunity to truly advance the cause, and perhaps make the first significant contribution to the battle I'd enlisted to fight. I could give the Silencer a new target, or perhaps even targets, here and now. I immediately took off the pouch I strapped to my side and shuffled through it for a quill, ink, and a piece of note paper. The idea began flowing freely out of me. I was driven by a passion I knew I couldn't sleep or eat again without releasing. This was an opportunity for justice, and my cause was coming back to me like the day I'd declared it. I was driven by a stronger force than ever, all the wrongs they'd done to me and others were coming back. Soon they'd meet a similar fate.

(**Learns-fast**): Applewatch

* * *

**Cleaver** was the only one who could see the house from a distance, and that was because of his magical training. I was watching him closely, and I guessed the same was true with **Surveys-from-above**, though I didn't dare look away to check. My muscles were tight and my stomach was feeling acidic with tension. I felt wrapped in hesitance. **Fights-up-close** had managed to kill the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary, and now she could be hiding anywhere in the vast darkness and silence of the night. Eyes could be upon us from any direction, waiting to reveal themselves in a moment of our terror. While the older Shadowscale could see through the darkness, I only had a torch. 

I startled myself once again as another step met nothing, my foot falling into a small hole. A jolt shot through my body before I pulled it out again. The scare shook me up quite a bit, as frightening thoughts had been going through my head already.

Thankfully, I'd only have to walk a bit more distance than I already had, assuming our next stop was Bruma, to end this torture and get some sleep. It would be pure bliss to get back indoors right now.

We all had our weapons drawn. In truth, I was secretly hoping she wouldn't show up. Trying to capture her now was an idea that worried me. I was afraid the others might kill her out of fear, possibly even hate at this point. I wanted to find **Fights-up-close** eventually, but strongly desired it happened under different circumstances.

"**Almost there.**" **Cleaver** assured us. I didn't respond at first. I was afraid of disturbing whatever balance was keeping him level-headed at the moment. I was counting down the time until I could get back into a city, or to be specific Bruma.

"**Tell us if you see any movement.**" I finally said, knowing **Fights-up-close** could be almost anywhere within the vast shadows, watching the light we carried. She had a mind cunning enough to warrant fear, and everything I saw seemed to translated into a potentional hiding place for her. I was certainly wasn't comfortable having her roaming in the opened here, working for Lucien Lachance for who-knew-what kind of purpose. The night held as much mystery as the situation itself. I kept my dagger out, ready to kill.

Now I could make out a stone wall. Good. This was probably the house. Any form of civilization was nice. I relaxed a bit.

"**There's an old woman's body up ahead, in the fields**." **Cleaver** said in a monotone voice, obviously trying to hide some emotion, emotion which probably had nothing to do with the old woman. Indeed, we'd been beaten to the location. As he continued to walk, I could tell he seemed to be leading us to that field. I kept the presence of my dagger obvious, trying to intimidate any potential attacker as bluntly as possible. If only my eyes could be see every angle at once!

In an orderly and fluent procedure, taking our mission seriously as I expected, he bent down to check the body's temperature "**She's cold. I don't think it was a recent kill.**" That meant **Fights-up-close** had probably come and gone. Blissful relief came over me. The night seemed a bit less terrifying. He fished through her pockets, as I kept extra careful guard, knowing we had one less Shadowscale handy. "**Nothing**." He said.

"**Let's search the house.**" I said, feeling far freer to speak. The fact that **Fights-up-close** had probably come and gone already provided me with plenty of relief, making the night seem a lot less terrifying.

I knew finding **Fights-up-close** would be a difficult task, but it was nice to know I could put it off for tonight.

Somehow we needed to get a step ahead of her.


	41. Mathias Draconis

Sun's Height 10, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Imperial City, Talos Plaza District

* * *

Even if the awe of Cyrodiil had warn off, I still had to admit the Imperial City daunted me. It was a stone maze, its floor bathed in an ominous dark-orange. So much was hidden and entangled in it. Once so many places to go and things to see packed so tightly together would have given this evening the potential to be interesting, but when my thoughts were drenches in uncertainty and grief, such petty things did seemed to matter. I was here to find one man: Mathias.

I uncomfortably looked back down at the gift list to see if I could absorb some kind of clue this time. As soon as I did, the kind old woman's last moments came back to me. I knew I must have looked like such a monster killing her there. I didn't feel any satisfaction for having her gift list and coin in my possession. The memory ensnared me, pulling me into its depths. The stabs, the blood, the screams. I had to yank myself back to real life:

_Matthias -- Talos Plaza District, Imperial City (he has a home there): Matthias always was a rough and tumble lad. The last I'd heard, he'd fallen in with some pretty tough characters there in the Imperial City. I'd feel so much better if I knew he was well protected, so I'd like for you to find him a nice cuirass. Nothing too light -- iron or steel should be fine. And, if possible, I'd like it engraved with "To my Dear Matty, I'll always be here to protect you, love Mum." _

It was a struggle to read, but I'd already pledged to carry out this contract. Though I shuddered at the memories of all my recent kills, now was the time to think about the assignment.

If his mother intended to get him a new cuirass, he was some kind guardsman. However, he didn't require a uniform. That ruled out the Legion. It sounded like he had a career in private security.

I decided to head up the steps towards the Talos Statue. The symbol of the Cyrodillic religion made me feel lonely again. Every follower of Sithis I'd known was now dead, or bitterly disconnected from me.

I sat down on the stone circle. The precision with which it was carved made me nearly forget it was stone, it seem like some kind of otherworldly element.

I tried to imagine where Mathias might be as I watched people go about their tranquil and simple minded lives. My throat ached as I thought of all the potential my transfer to Cyrodiil could have had, that instead turned into such a tragedy. I became extra conscious of my blinking as I could tell I was on the verge of tears. But I had to hold it together, I couldn't draw too much attention to myself.

Then I noticed an Orcish woman in a chain mail cuirass ascending the steps I had just walked. It was certainly odd to see someone wearing a cuirass in the city, and there could only be so many people hiring private security in a district like this. It occurred to me she might know something about Mathias.

I got up and immediately started walking towards her. I was slightly afraid to speak to her after days of silence, fearing I might slur my words or something, but I knew I had to seize the opportunity immediately.

"Hey, you're a guard...is anyone hiring?" I said as soon as I was in range. I'd managed to get the words out just fine, but my voice sounded odd after all the time I'd spent in silence.

"Umbacano you mean? I doubt it. He already has more of us than he needs." She replied. Maybe Mathias was one of them, but before I could ask she was talking again "I keep an eye on his place. Stuffed full of treasure, you know. But no dirty thieves getting in while I'm on duty." She was already starting to sound friendly and conversational, but I knew there were at least two ways I could take that last line.

"I'm willing to work cheaply. Where is Umbacano?" I asked.

"Right through this door, actually." Gesturing to a door right by the steps both of us had ascended. Then, in a half-joking kind of tone "You'll just have to deal with Jollring first." She headed through the door she mentioned. I only got a brief glimpse of the interior, but I didn't see enough to draw any significant conclusions about this Umbacano character.

I stared at the door, wondering if I should enter, when I noticed two more armored guards exit. One, a finned man, who probably wasn't Mathias. The other looked like he might hold some promise. The two men parted ways, the Argonian heading in the direction of the Imperial Palace, and the human guard heading towards the stairs.

I watched him. First I just moved my eyes, then my entire head, then, when I could tell he was about to get out of range, got up to follow him. I kept my stride casual, like a normal citizen of the Imperial citizen would when they went about whatever various tasks you could embark on in a city this big.

I knew I was going to have to confirm he was the target before killing him, but as of now I didn't have any way to do that in mind. He was half way down the stairs when he finally turned to face me.

"Yeah?" He asked brazenly "What're you lookin' at?" Blood rushed to my head with embarrassment as I realized he knew I was watching him this whole time. Then I couldn't help but feel slightly irritated at him for making me feel that way.

"You're Mathias Draconis...right? You work for Umbacano?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" He asked. He was trying to come off as tough, which was starting to get annoying. Maybe there _was_ a reason at least one of the Draconis's was being targeted. I realized I wouldn't have to explain myself to him if I was indeed going to kill him. I just wanted to end this conversation so we wouldn't be seen talking together right before his murder.

"Carry on." I replied. He gave me a puzzled look while I continued to stare, shrugging, and then continuing to stare like there was no tomorrow, which was true enough.

"Oh-kaaay then." He replied, his eyes darting around a bit "I guess I'll be going back about my business. And please stop staring at me. You're giving me the creeps." He finished his descent and took a left.

I looked over my shoulders, realizing, as I turned my head, that I might still look suspicious to any bystanders. To my relief, no eyes were upon me. They were all oblivious to the fact that the Dark Brotherhood was walking the sunlit streets in the fortified center of the Empire.

I pushed the Shadow energy to the surface of my skin, and began walking softly down the steps to see where he would go. A second ago I was just another citizen of the Imperial City, but now, invisible and careful with every step, I was a covert assassin.

When I turned the corner Mathias was already looking over his shoulder, but his eyes beheld nothing, and he continued down the road almost immediately after I had truly arrived. It was certainly nice to know I could pull of such effective stealth even in a place like the Imperial City. Even to the carriages rolling down the roads I wasn't there. I was spying on all of them. Deceiving all of them.

Mathias turned towards one of the many doors lining the Imperial City side-walk and looked in my direction one last time, his eyes still capturing nothing of me. It was one thing to be so subtle the enemy never looked for you, but it was even more thrilling when they searched for you and missed you entirely.

He unlocked his door, stepping into one the rooms hollowed out from the gigantic stone structure that was the Imperial City. I was out of his thoughts by now, most likely. He was back to concentrating on something casual and insignificant, no doubt. The same was not true of me.

I headed for the door he entered. The Shadow energy was still sticking. Two instincts were now battling with in me. One wanted to move forward faster, so I could get into his house before time itself dissipated the energy, the other held me back, telling me to move cautiously to avoid the risk of the Shadow energy disappearing immediately from abrupt movements. The trick was finding the golden middle, but that seemed to be a matter of intuition.

When I made it to the door, combining caution and speed, I decided to pick the lock immediately. Though it was somewhat of an impulsive decision, without stepping back to check its logic, it seemed to fit in with the rest of the plan. A small spurt of satisfaction came with this demonstration of skill, but it was quickly drowned out by the bigger picture of my life.

I gently, careful not disrupt the Shadow energy clinging to me, took out a lock pick and, clutching it with my fist to encase it all with Shadow energy, brought it towards the door. I extended it only briefly before inserting it into the lock, then began intuitively manipulating the tumblers. I could do the vast majority this subtle craft without really thinking about it. I tried to remind myself of what I was doing to get the usual pleasure from it. The way dexterity flowed into the subtle little tumblers, and how that subtlety caused such a massive result. But it seemed pointless. I just couldn't sap any pleasure out of this.

Success.

I opened to door, though I realized my connection with the Shadow energy was getting less and less fresh, to a point where it could dissipate at any second. Pushing myself to get in and close the door as quickly as possible, but also trying to refrain from moving abruptly, my muscles seemed to be moving me both ways at once. Luckily, I managed to find safety in the house, just as soon as the Shadow energy dissipated.

The house wasn't anything spectacular. In fact, the stairs took up almost half of the room on my current floor. Furniture was packed tightly, giving little comfortable room to move around.

Upstairs, I thought I could hear something, some kind of shuffling and something heavy hitting the upstairs floor.

There were stone steps to the top floor. That was good. Stone didn't creak.

I unsheated my dagger. It brought back the memory of the Purification. I was stalled briefly by the sharp pain the guilt carried. For a brief second, I felt an odd urge to stab myself. I clenched the dagger tightly as more painful memories washed over me. The Purification. Images of their last moments flashed before me. Telandril's last fall. Ocheeva's slit throat. Tienaava's staggering.

I almost forgot what I was doing when my mind finally got back to normal. I looked down at the dagger. It was new, an enchanted dagger given to me by Lucien. The enchantments were subtle, but from what I'd heard the boost of effectiveness was guaranteed to last for quite some time. I'd left my Shadowscale dagger behind and, at this point, didn't even care.

I began walking up the stairs, carefully placing each step, listening to the very rubbing of the cloth of my clothes and cracking of my joints. Distributing my weight was not an issue, because there was no danger of "creaking" on this set of steps.

Then, when I was only a few steps from the top, the door opened. It was Mathias, as I suspected, but now his cuirass and weapon were gone. We both jerked at the encounter.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing in here?" He asked, his face slowly changing from surprise to anger. I actually noticed similarities between his face and his mothers'. It took a long time living with Cyrodiils to notice those kinds of things.

I was lost for words. We stared at each, the silence now truly perfect.

"Oh, alright then. You're some kind of crazy, is that it? C'mere and show me what you've got." He was quick to get aggressive. Rough and tumble lad indeed.

I complied, figuring it would be an easy win considering I had the dagger. I quickly made my way up the remainder of the stairs. I went to stab but he intercepted my hands. He was stronger than me, no doubt. The iron-strength incapacitated my hands.

I immediately delivered a well-aimed kick fueled by frustration at my initial failure to reverse the gender advantage. He released my arms and doubled over. I quickly stepped to the side, then grabbed him by the ears and threw him down his own steps.

He began to down tumble wildly. Loud noise, ruckus, and a series of blatantly painful smacks against the stone steps until his head wacked against the stone wall with a merciless crack. His body was completely still now.

It was fluent win. Now it would look like an accident. I'd all executed this within a minute of locating the target. Maybe this pain and sense of duty shaved off some excess thoughts. I wasn't sure, but that was certainly the finest kill I'd ever carried out, even when my life weighed me down so.

Perfect silence. Just to be sure he was dead I decided it would be a good idea to head down the steps and make sure he wasn't feigning.

With my dagger still unsheathed and ready to deliver another blow, I stepped down the stairs. My soft foot falls were the loudest thing in the house at that moment.

As I neared the bottom of the steps, I felt slightly apprehensive. Slightly. But if he was still alive, my biggest fear was fear itself. The unpleasant startle. Taking him down perminately would be easy.

I finally made it the ground level. I bent over his awkwardly positioned body and felt for a pulse. The second my fingers contacted his flesh I felt myself abruptly brace for a surprise, but none came.

He was clearly dead. Maybe this Draconis contract would be over sooner than I'd predicted. Then I could decide my loyalties once and for all.


	42. Sleep

Sun's Height 11, 4E1

(Champion of Cryodiil): Olav's Tap and Tack bedroom

* * *

Harrow unlocked the door. Now I was among the enemy. I was seen as another splinter cell in Dagon's massive military machine. But they were wrong in both ways: I was far more than a splinter cell, and working for anyone but Dagon. 

I felt practically naked in this robe, but I was so close to the Amulet of Kings. Though it appeared a small and elegant piece of jewelry, it had power beyond that of the entire Imperial Legion. It had the power to fend off this invasion, and return Tamriel to peace.

The "hallway" opened up into a larger area of the cavern, thick beams of light shooting down from the outside world, providing the Mythic Dawn with a sampling of fresh air and sun light they so desperately needed in their world of secrets. Roots hung from the cavern ceiling like tentacles. My anticipation grew.

Harrow proceeded towards another flimsy wooden door. It looked as make-shift as everything else in their shrine, which made their assurance of their own cause almost comical.

Before Harrow could open this door, it was opened from the other side by a fellow acolyte. The fellow acolyte smiled at me as he walked by and, in a deep voice spoke the words "Greet the new day, brother." His gentle, undue confidence wasn't the only way his view of the world around him was distorted.

I didn't return the greeting, I just kept sticking close to Harrow.

Our path became narrow and constricted again.

Other members of the Mythic Dawn were moving through these naturally crafted hallways. It wasn't like Cloud Ruler Temple here; no one seemed to be an individual, and no one seemed capable of much on their own. Each member was just a small unit of force satisfied with demonstrating even a sliver of significance to their cause.

The only intentional differences I could see between the acolytes were the weapons they carried. Some were armed, some were not. Some had daggers, some had clubs.

I was unarmed, so it was already hard to imagine fighting through them all in my condition, but I was still undercover. Surely I could find a way to recover the Amulet without getting detected. I didn't know how soon that would happen, but my mind and body felt crisp and ready for the task.

Harrow turned to enter another opening in the left wall of the cavern. I followed closely, still keeping my manner meek. The cave was expanding again. I could hear speaking in the distance. The words slowly became clear as we advanced.

"Praised be." The Mythic Dawn members, Harrow included, droned in the best unison they could achieve. Their minds were firmly attached to the cause they'd dedicated themselves. That was probably necessary for a cause like this. If they explored their thoughts they'd see just insane their mission was.

Slowly the source of the voices became visible. It became apparent we were standing on a cliff above the room in which the preaching was occurring. Right now, there was a large grouping of Mythic Dawn members below us, gathered infront of an altar where the one distinguished figure in blue robes stood. There was a stone stair case leading down to that area.

"The Dragon throne is empty." 'The Master', a tall and imposing figure, boomed in a powerful and confident voice as he stood at the altar, with a book and dagger nearby, preaching to a large gathering of acolytes below. "We hold the Amulet of Kings." He held the amulet in the air, moving his hand left to right. I noticed there was someone behind him. Another acolyte with a staff. We were heading down the stone steps before I could observe more, or even identify what else I saw behind him. "Praised be to your brothers and sisters." He said, as Harrow and I descended, "Great will be their reward in Paradise."

"Praised be." The cult members droned again, this time in slightly better unison. I quickly chimed in too.

The lower we got, the more mighty the master looked. Now I was truly starting to feel like a member of their cult. Good. It would make my cover all the more convincing.

We stopped beside my 'brothers and sisters', just another face in the crowd. Little did they know, I carried intentions that could end the Oblivion invasion.

"Now hear the words of Lord Dagon:" Camoran said, his powerful voice echoing throughout the cavern. He was oddly captivating. "When I walk the Tamriel again, the faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other mortals for ever. As for the rest: The weak shall be winnowed, the timid shall be cast down, and the mighty shall tremble at my feet and beg for pardon!"

"So sayeth Lord Dagon, praised be."

The Master's mouth formed a subtle smile at the unison and understanding forming within the room. "–your reward, brothers and sisters. The Time of Cleansing draws ni. I go now to Paradise. I will return with Lord Dagon, at the coming of the dawn."

Mankar Camoran turned from the altar. This was it. He would commit ritualistic suicide, and soon the Amulet would be mine. My breaths got shorter. I could feel the excitement brewing within me. I poured over every instant for some indication of exactly what would happen.

Then, I noticed a fiery glow from behind the altar, accompanied by a noise similar to that of an Oblivion gate. What was going on? I looked at Harrow, but he continued to beam with a kind of mellow pride at the elevated stone platform, his face now coated with the orange glow. He seemed frustratingly unphased by the bizarre occurrence. I shifted my head to see what was happening. There was a fiery ball hovering behind the altar, now closing up. Mankar Camoran was gone.

The moment was disorienting. What had happened? Mankar Camoran was gone, but it didn't look like suicide. Had Mankar Camoran...truly gone to such a place?

Was there was some threatening significance behind the booming voice and ominous words I'd once assumed to be superficial?

I knew I'd never looked at the Mythic Dawn the same way again. Now it felt like I was fighting an entirely new enemy...in an entirely new world.

And the Amulet of Kings? He had been holding it. He had taken it to...Paradise. Now nothing of my previous plans had any value. My weapons and money were in Harrow's possession, and the Amulet of Kings in Mankar's.

Harrow spoke to the woman still standing at the altar from afar "We have a new brother who wishes to bind himself to the service of Lord Dagon." No. Now it felt like a nightmare. It all seemed to be happening too fast. My confidence had been washed away.

"Advance, initiate." The distant female voice called. Had I been the one who had truly been deceived? Was everything I'd anticipated here a naive heroic fantasy?

I turned to my left, looking at the faces of the acolytes in an entirely new light. I no longer saw foolishness and fanaticism in them. I saw a frightening power and deep understanding behind their eyes.

I began walking on the stone-tile floor towards the altar. But now my mind was blank. I wasn't thinking about how to get my hand on the Amulet of Kings because I had no idea how I could. I was stuck playing the role as a Mythic Dawn agent. Now I could only feel horribly discouraged, with no hope to cling to, just dull pain.

I noticed two Mythic Dawn guards holding an Argonian, each grabbing one his arms. He wore only a loin cloth, and his expression was solemn, his stride limp, as if he'd submitted to some sort of grim fate. He was climbing the stairs to the altar several seconds before me.

As I approached the steps, I started to feel sick. I hadn't pieced it all together yet, but none of it seemed good. My breathing seemed to becoming less and less natural as I ascended.

I watched them lay the submissive Argonian down on a stone bed. He was on his side, his eyes closed, and his body stagnant except for some subtle signs of breath. Right now, with my plans crushed, I wondered if I should do the same: accept I'd been defeated by the enemy.

I looked towards the altar where Mankar Camoran had been standing, where he had teleported himself to a world I practically scoffed at the existence of. The woman who'd order my advance was now walking towards me. Now _I_ was the focus of their attention. I was nearly nothing compared to the power against me, I realized. They were ignorant to my original intentions, and to my panic, and yet it didn't matter. Escape seemed impossible.

"You have come to dedicate your life to Lord Dagon's service." She said, smiling "This pact must be sealed with 'red drink', the blood of Lord Dagon's enemies. Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as a pledge of your own life's blood, which shall be His in the end." She pointed over to the altar, where a thick book and shining dagger lay. I looked back the Argonian prisoner, who was still lying on the bed, two guards poised firmly behind him. At once I knew what they wanted from me. I'd gone from a master saboteur, to a pawn of the enemy, being order to carry out their twisted crimes.

I began slowly walking towards the altar. My cover seemed to be the only thing standing between me and death.

I was walking slowly, my muscles pushing me both ways at once. Murder seemed unthinkable, but did I really have choice? Already the internal debate made me feel ready to gag. I hated them for putting me through this. I truly did feel defeated by them, for the first time. Before this, I'd only known bitter-sweet success, but now I was utterly defeated.

The dagger was now within reach. It was a beautiful weapon: shiney, sharp, and crafted with intricate patterns, but I was expected to use it for an ugly purpose. To stab it through the helpless prisoner. I had killed plenty of people already, but they were the enemy, and they were threats, so murder seemed like a whole new world.

I knew this moment was trying every component of my mind. There had to be some way to reason the right solution to this. I just needed a place to start.

I turned towards the stone bed, the situation itself still progressing faster than the thoughts I needed to find a way around it. I was trapped in the moment, it seemed.

I arrived at the stone bed. The prisoner closed his eyes tighter, crushing his eyelids against each other. He had become weak and helpless. My dagger was at bare, and I could imagine all too well how he'd feel when my the cold metal was stabbed into his sensitive neck. The dagger was too small to cleave his spine with. There was no quick way to end his life that could give this incident a comforting afterthought. I tried to sift through the situation for some reasons to weigh against each other. _If I kill him, I'll keep my cover._ _If I let him live, I'll have an ally during my escape. _The first reason hadn't come to me as intuitively, though, and it took a bit of time for my mind to get comfortable with the idea. I needed a third. The woman behind me noticed my hesitation.

"You must slay the sacrifice to bind yourself fully to Lord Dagon." She commanded "Lord Dagon thirsts for blood!" I wanted to push her away, outraged at the way misfortune after misfortune was piling unto me. Of course, I fought the urge.

I went back to the logic I'd built up: both letting him live and murdering him would give me an advantage, but the first ensured two could make it out of the shrine alive.

This Argonian wouldn't be the next Baurus. My cover ended now.

I jabbed my elbow backwards into the soft stomach behind me, and grabbed the arm of the Argonian, abruptly yanked him to his feel him to his feet. "Run!" I shouted.

I swung around to stab the mythic dawn agent I'd elbowed, ruthlessly taking advantage of the moment, unleashing only a small piece of seemingly endless stores of force that had come upon me. Then I shoved her away, destructive passions making their way out of me.

I knew I couldn't waste a second. The situation encased me in danger, yet I needed to leave here with some I didn't arrive with. I ran towards the altar. That sacred book must have some use for us. I pushed every piece of force I could from my legs, almost leaping with each step. I knew every second counted. No matter what I did, death would be only inches away, or within my entirely.

I grabbed the book on the altar with my left hand, hearing the crowd gasp, and then launched myself into the air from altar, hoping to jump over the crowd.

As my feet left the cold stone, however, my stupidity registered with me. I felt faint with panic as I realized what would happen. From this height, I would not be able to land on my feet, but nor would I be able to soar far enough to get out the range of the fury of the six acolytes below.

The faint panic was replaced with a tragic sinking feeling. Thoughts of death rushed through me head. Thoughts of how long it would take the blades to react when I didn't come back. Thoughts of the what would become of the Empire without the Amulet. Thoughts of what the last moment would feel like. It was too late to avoid now, and that crushed all hope.

Gravity punished me for my defiance as I landed. My legs immediately gave way, causing various parts of my body to hit the stone tiles painfully. Light-headed with panic, I attempted to get up, maybe prove myself wrong when I was so sure I would die. Before I could fully stand, however, I felt a brutally heavy strike to my back. My breath was knocked out of me, and I knew it had been of horrible consequence to my body even when I couldn't see the damage.

"Lord Dagon will welcome your soul in Oblivion!" A voice very close behind me cried out. No! What had driven me to make such a foolish mistake? Now the prisoner and I would die alike at the hands of the Mythic Dawn.

And was that where my soul would truly go? Oblivion? Mankar Camoran had made his way to his Paradise.

My only hope was that this wasn't real. I had to believe this wasn't real.

Suddenly, I could feel my surroundings begin to fade, and my connection with the shrine begin to loosen. Every sensation began waning. There was a moment of light and fluffy bliss. My spirits were lifted as I realized it was a dream. But I wasn't yet awake either. I was somewhere in between, somehow.

The motherly voice called to me again "Allow death to take its course. It is necessary in order for us to rebuild. Only three of my followers must remain. Then we may begin anew, growing through your enlightenment."

(**Fights-up-close**): Bravil

* * *

I hugged the covers tighter. For some reason I felt so cold, but no matter how tightly I wrapped myself it wouldn't go away. In warm and humid Bravil, on Sun's Height itself, I felt so cold. 

I looked up at the ceiling, and for the first time wondered who, if anyone really was watching me. I no longer could feel the constant embrace of Sithis and the Night Mother ever since I thought about betraying the Dark Brotherhood. I had never realized how much their presence meant to me until now.

I wanted to pray, just to sooth the pain in me so I could get some sleep, but I knew I should get used to not having them in me.

I knew I needed sleep. I knew that with all that was happening, I needed the utmost mental acuity to stay level headed, but every time I closed my eyes to enter my own little Void, it just got me thinking about the real one. Would I really meet my family there again, or was everything we were taught truly a lie? Right now, the crushing truth was that I had no family. The sanctuary was dead, I no longer directly contacted anyone.

Then my thoughts ventured into ground they had never entered before. I began thinking about my true parents. I had never seen a scale on their body, nor been told anything about them. What might they have looked like? Were they thinking about me too at this moment? Or was **Goes-in-heavy** right? Were they murdered trying to keep me from all this?


	43. Hold it

Sun's Height 12, 4E1

(**Learns-fast): **The Niben Valley

* * *

I snapped back to reality just in time to notice I'd almost walked into a moss-covered rock. The hunger was making me a bit spacey, and I knew an Inn was located not far from my position, so little else was on my mind. None the less, this was one of the more relaxing times over the last few days because I had something to focus on other than the nerve-wracking uncertainties of Lucien Lachance and **Fights-up-close**. The smell of the swamp was filling me with better memories, and the sun was pleasantly beating down on us. 

Yet soon I saw two soldiers in Leyawiin Guard uniform, and clearly they saw me as well. One was a Cyrodillic man, the other was an Orcish woman. They were this far away from the town? It seemed we had only just entered the Leyawiin sector. Their presence here already made me a bit uneasy. I was wondering exactly what kind of disturbance might have happened in County Leyawiin to provoke such a rare response.

She put her hand in the air. "Hold it." She said, though her voice was neither loud nor abrupt. She began walking towards us, her metal helmet gleaming in the sun. "I'm going to have to ask what your business is traveling to Leyawiin before I can let you enter." What my business is? It sounded like visitors weren't being accepted.

My mind began to race. _I came here to intercept __**Fights-up-close**__ before or after she assassinates Caelia Draconis, but I know if I tip them off, she'll end up in their custody, not mine. _I knew every second she observed my silence I was diminishing my chances of getting any further. She waited patiently as I helplessly fumbled around for some kind of excuse while she watched from her position of authority, safe and dominant. I could produce no satisfactory excuse.

"We're just visiting." I finally blurted out, though I felt so pathetic in their presence. Simply getting to Leyawiin had its complications when you weren't recognized as an authority figure. I couldn't help but feel a bit irritated about answering to anyone other than the Argonian Royal family.

She looked at her fellow guard. He shook his head, his expression neutral. I tried to sift through all that I'd seen for some kind of meaning, some kind of threat or opportunity it presented, but had no idea what that could have meant.

"We're going to have to make sure you check out at Castle Leyawiin first." She said. She was under orders. I could tell by her tone. But Castle Leyawiin? I knew what happened to Argonian prisoners there. I tried to conjure up some vague excuse or question that might get me out of this situation.

"Is there any other way to get to Leyawiin?" I asked, suddenly becoming extra conscious of how I sounded, trying to look at their faces for any indication of how they might answer, since it would mean a world of difference.

The Cyrodiil chimed in "I'm sorry, but now that you've announced your intention to visit the Leyawiin Sector, orders require us to take you to the castle."


	44. Reconsideration

Sun's Height 12, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

More and more dread was coming to me with each step. Simply seeing the walls of the city made me feel ready to throw up, every part of my body felt constricted, and my heart was racing. Would the guards remember me? 

All the bad memories attached to this city were assaulting me at once as well: the first time I found out "Scar-tail" was missing, the discovery of his treachery, and the catastrophe that the assignment regarding Philida had nearly become.

Assassinating Caelia Draconis required me to go through the entire city unseen. I could already make out the shape of a guard in distance. Was he to be a bystander, or a mortal enemy? Would getting their attention cause a casual glance, or an armed charge? Would I have to explore Leyawiin through stealth, and gather information through spying, or could I explore it with casual strolling and gather information through well-planned talk?

When was the last time I'd relaxed?

As I got closer I could see how well the enemy had adapted to the threat they perceived. Two guards were at the city gates, two other archers were guarding the I'd originally escaped through during my assignment to kill Philida, and several sentries were using the cover of the turrets of the city walls. Imagining how to penetrate such a force seemed impossible. If I was recognized as I wanted criminal here, it looked like the enemy had already outdone me.

I decided it would be impossible to take a stealth approach. I'd just need to see how the guards would react to me. If they drew their weapons, I'd just run into the Western Swamps and, if necessary, use my Shadow power to escape. I'd plan the rest afterwards.

I approached close enough to catch their attention. An archer by the bay was staring at me from some distance. Seconds of uneasiness passed through me as I thought about the implications of what it would mean if she were to attack. She did nothing. It seemed I would indeed be able to get into Leyawiin. I could relax.

I continued towards the gates of the Leyawiin. It was a relatively clear day. It was slightly in the evening, causing the sun to cast a golden tint on the ground. Normally the smell of the swamp would have been comforting, but I had painful memories attached to this place, and it seemed to take more and more willpower to approach the city gates the closer I got. The guards definitely saw my face now, and didn't seem bothered, but I wanted an excuse to stall. An odd sort of fear was pushing me away from the city, but I had to wade through that fear.

A shudder shot down my body as I remembered killing **Goes-in-heavy** here. Then the memory of the mistake I'd made with Philida came back to me as well. All these memories made me want to tare my fins out. Would they get worse when I entered the city.

As I passed the guards I became extra conscious of where I stared and my facial expression. I didn't want to give them any clues, but I had no idea how I should look when I was entering a city guarded by so many soldiers.

"Ma'am," A deep voice of one of the gate guards said, causing me to jerk slightly before turning towards him "A little friendly advice: stay away from the Black Marsh border. Captain Draconis has a patrol lining the Niben Valley, and the Leyawiin guard's pretty twitchy about that area."

(**Learns-fast**): The Nibenay Valley

* * *

The Leyawiin city walls were now in full view. My appetite had completely disappeared. Some way to avert this had entered my mind countless times, but each time it seemed like running from Leyawiin guard in broad daylight would only cause us more problems. We hadn't seen **Fights-up-close** yet, and now I'd turned down just about every opportunity I could to escape their clutches. My muscles tightened as I imagined the pain we might have to endure. My stomach ached with fear, but it was of course a petty pain considering the circumstances. 

It was almost a poetic fate, considering it was the Argonian Royal Court's fault Lady Leyawiin was so paranoid about Argonians in the first place. If I hadn't given **Climbs-out-of-sight** an assignment here, everything would be different now. Even with all the emotional pain I had received through this ordeal, physical pain was still horribly intimidating.

The guards opened the town gates. I wouldn't have very many more opportunities for escape I could seize, but it wasn't over yet. The alleys, the giant buildings, and the other citizens: They could all be made into distractions and hiding spots. All I needed was one second of opportunity and an instant of bravery and tactical promise to escape.

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

The streets were almost completely clear of town guard members, I noticed as I walked through the colorful city. No doubt they were outside of the town walls, watching the perimeters for the Renrijdra Krin. There was definitely an atmosphere of tension and seriousness in the Leyawiin county today. The town guard had already become more focused on military operations than law enforcement. Their limited numbers made them seem more on edge than usual. They made no effort to hide their stares at passers by like me. They weren't there to maintain the towns friendly system for a few crooks. It was like they were at war, with both friends and enemies in the city walls. 

I wanted to wait for night to cross into the Niben Valley, but I knew a non-resident Argonian loitering around the town would stir up suspicion. I needed to appear occupied. Up ahead, I saw a sign for a store called "Southern books". Reading a book was the best way to keep myself occupied over such a long period of time I could think of.

I already could feel the eyes of one of the town guard members as I headed for the bookstore. I couldn't blame them for acting so brazenly suspicious towards the citizens. Even I was a bit afraid of the Renridjra Krin at this point, and the evening sun and nearly empty streets made the town sort of eerie.

I was actually eager to enter the bookstore. It was part of Leyawiin I hadn't seen, and therefore didn't have any bad memories attached to it. That, and it was hard to imagine anyone trying to arrest me in there.

I opened the door and entered Southern Books.

High-class paintings were on the wall, the carpet was decorated with intricate patterns, and the shelves had a large selection. I turned straight towards the books, instead of looking at whoever was at the counter.

I was slightly enjoying the intellectual ambience of the store, and I was oddly glad to get out of the ominously empty streets of Leyawiin.

I skimmed through the shelves, not at all in a hurry. I methodically began on the top left:

Biography of Queen Barenziah _Sounds boring. _Fall of Prince Snow. _Also boring_. The Firsthold Revolt _Maybe. _The Red Kitchen Reader _What? _The Wolf Queen _Maybe if it wasn't so thick... _Rislav the Righteous _Boring_. The Amulet of Kings _Who would write a whole book on a piece of jewelry?_ The Runis of Kemel-Ze _Boring_. The Children's Anuad _Sounds weird._ The Eastern Provinces Impartially Considered

The memory shot through my like a bolt of lightening. My tail twitched in the storm of thought. I remembered where I'd last seen that book: right by "Scar-tail's" body. The cruel words we shared came back to me, a vicious and merciless ending marring the memory of our friendship. I wanted those memories to leave, but they were always in the background ready to pounce.

Was this book, along with the other two I'd found at his campsite, really the source of his defection? The title stared at me accusingly, reminding me off all the pains of the past that were still buried beneath the troubles I already had. Even if I hadn't "Purified" the sanctuary, my life would have been far from perfect, I realized. The friendship I'd lost could have never been replaced. Everything else felt artificial and constricted by comparison. And now, in the one place I thought I could find peace, I was staring at a reminder of the events that haunted this area of Cyrodiil.

Last time I'd decided to burn that book. But why? I searched my head for my reasoning back then, though it seemed like back then I was leading a totally different life. The very air I breathed seemed different. Yet, at the same time, it seemed so close.

I remembered...I had indeed assumed the books lead to his defection, so, like everything else that turned people against the Dark Brotherhood or Argonian Royal Court, I destroyed them. Yet...they were still only books. They only presented reasons...and if these reasons weren't valid, if I truly believed in my superiors, then it how could it turn me against them?

My reasoning was solid. My path was clear. Now I needed to presue it.

I reached out to the book, feeling more and more alert as my hand got closer to it. I was breaking free of something now. I knew I was entering a new stage in my "life's dark journey".

As I touched the book, I suddenly felt more lucid. I was looking at the world from a new angle, somehow. Something inside me had woken up.

I turned towards the counter to see who the proprietor was.

He was an Orc, dark and wearing a quilted doublet. For some reason he didn't look happy to see me, though. Now just to buy this book. As I walked towards the counter it occurred to me it wasn't too late to turn back, and something was pulling me that way. My mind was racing for some kind of excuse to stop this, but I found none. I had to keep pushing forward. I'd proved to myself this was right. I had to follow up on my logic.

I approached the counter, then finally pushed out the words. "Excuse me, I was thinking of buyi..."

"Yeah, buy a goddam book! It's a bookstore, ain't it? Don't just go peaking at 'em, buy one! I'm Bugak gro-Bol, and I say you better buy a goddam book, and right away, dammit!" With more than a bit of surprise, my mood dropped down a notch further. But having enough on my mind already, I complied.

"How much for this?" I said, trying to keep any sort of emotion out of my tone, while holding up the book so he could see the title.

"15 Septims. And make it quick. You've wasted enough time here already!" He snapped. I probably should have been a bit angrier about all this, but when I wondered if my own employers were on the right side of things, it was hard to get worked up by one person's rudeness.

I fished through my pockets, deciding to save this issue for another time, and, combining types of coins, managed to get out a sum of 15 Septims. He didn't even extend his hand. I just dumped them on the counter, and headed out the door so I could find a good place to read as the coins trembled.

The odd occurrence at the book store continued to dance around in the back of my mind, but for now I knew I should block it out. Or should I? Yes, I already had the Draconis contract to worry about. I was already getting into the annoying habit of second guessing myself. I groaned. I hated all this internal bickering. It was usually over something more serious than this, but it marred my existence constantly.

I saw a good place to sit and read across the street.

(**Learns-fast**): Castle Leyawiin Dungeon

* * *

We were truly ensnared by the enemy. I'd turned down every impulse to run and instead continued to flow with the current they set for us. As we walked I began surveying every thing I saw, and thinking about how it might factor into the torture. My breaths were growing shallow. I clenched my fists as the sense of desperation became overwhelming. 

We turned a corner, and a small flight of stairs came into view. The ache of fear remained, even though I knew it wasn't the two guards with us who would be doing the torturing. That ugly bit of County Leyawiin was kept secret. It would be high-ranking guard we'd most likely need to keep our eyes peeled for. I had to wonder if there might be one last flicker of hope in this situation, that I could use to break free of the invisible bonds they were holding us by.

Then the Orc opened the door, her face still dull. The Cyrodiil turned to us:

"We need to search you before we can proceed. We just have to work out a few details first." He said, obviously trying to be as vague as possible. _Yes._ We'd been granted one more spec of hope. Now we just had to find a way to use it. We were truly fortunate.

I entered the cell, trailed by the two younger ones. With a series of metallic clangs and clicks, they closed and locked our cell, but right then and there, it felt more like a sanctuary than a prison.

I could hear both of them walk off. Now we had another chance to avert the terrors that would otherwise come our way. But we needed to make good use of this last chance. I needed to put some ideas forward.

Unfortunately, it seemed easier to imagine how the two Shadowscales could escape, given that they were Shadows, than how I could escape. Also, I wasn't sure how well **Surveys-from-above** could conceal himself, given that he was relatively young and inexperienced. Even so, if even one of us seemed to disappear that must be useful. What if, when they opened the door, one or both the Shadowscales slipped out, hid, and then created a diversion? But even that seemed risky. There was no telling what any sort of diversion might cause the Leyawiin Guard to do.

It seemed the enemy had really outdone us by infuriatingly simple means. Yet I'd briefed Shadowscales about this area countless times. It was usually the last place I sent my Shadowscales before they went to Cheydinhal. What had I told the last Shadowscale I sent here?

Then I recalled my own words from the letter I had given to **Fights-up-close** for her last for the Argonian Royal Court "**If you are captured, we recommend suicide, as the Countess is infamous for her brutal methods of interrogation, and escape is highly unlikely even for someone of your abilities."**

I felt my heart sink as hope drifted away, leaving me alone to face this.

The more sensitive areas of my body began to ache as I began to image what kind of brutality might await us, but the thought that the best I could hope for was death was too brutal to accept. Fear began to set on, wrapping tightly around my body.

(**Fights-up-close**): Leyawiin

* * *

Hearing things from a Cyrodillic perspective was oddly entrancing. The book was turning out to be more interesting than I originally anticipated. 

I wondered briefly what **Learns-fast** or Mr. Lachance would think of me reading this. It did make me feel a bit disconnected from them, but no, I wasn't turning to the enemy yet. I was researching their ways, and so far everything I'd read just reaffirmed my views about the Empire, and it was satisfying to read. It wasn't anything I'd been told, but it was clear the Cyrodillic government was occupying Black Marsh for the interest of noone but themselves. I turned the page:

_First and foremost, we must take a look at the history of Morrowind's southern neighbor, Black Marsh. For much of Cyrodiil's early history, its inhabitants have been virtually disregarded, seen as irreformable savages. The Second Empire had annexed Black Marsh in 1E2837, but did little to help its people progress from their primitive and down trodden state. In fact, Imperial propaganda still referred to Black Marsh as part of "The Wild Regions" late into the Second Era, dismissing its inhabitants as "beastly lizardmen"_.

_As the Third Era dawned, Argonians were allowed more and more influence in border cities such as Gideon and Stormhold, and Argonian immigrants to the Imperial province were increasingly welcomed. However, with the exceptions of areas in extremely close proximity to Imperial built roads, villages, and cities, the inhabitants of Argonia were granted no protection, aid, or even rights, with Cyrodiils only venturing into the area to obtain rare resources on tribal territory._

_It was after the insurrection at Armanias, an Imperial settlement in a territorial dispute with the __**River-Watchers**__ tribe, that areas of Black Marsh left unsettled for centuries caught Imperial attention. To put down the rebellion, not only was the Imperial Legion forced to rethink the equipment it outfitted its troops with, but it was also forced to call on another tribe, opposed to the __**River-Watchers**__, known as the __**Stone-Scales **__for aid in defeating their enemy._

_This incident both showed the Imperials the need to control the inner-regions of the province, as well as the usefulness of native allies. Because of this, Empress Katariah commissioned the formation of the Argonian Royal Court, putting prominent members of the __**Stone-Scales**__ tribe in power. The tribe, which was now officially recognized as the government of all non-Imperial owned territory, was granted a large allowance of money and resources, including weaponry, under the condition it would put an end to tribal insurrection and inter-tribal warfare, through diplomacy or force, and bring the inner swamps to a point where they could sustain themselves as civilized, agricultural societies. In addition, it was expected to protect all Argonians from foreign slavers. _

_Only years after its creation, however, the Empire completely lost contact with the new Argonian royal family. Tribal conflict escalated over the passing years, with events like the Murkwood War and Glenbridge Crisis, as did the yearly number of slaves captured for work in Morrowind (1) . The Argonian Royal Court was, by many officials, considered to be completely dissolved. Its exact fate is unknown. _

_The issue was only briefly brought to the attention of the Empire during 3E399, when an Argonian descended Councilman, Thoricles Romus, insisted troops be sent to the inner swamps to re-establish some form of government, as the Argonian Royal Court was considered officially disbanded more than a century earlier due to loss of contact. When Morihatha was assassinated after refusing to send Imperial Legion troops to Argonia, Romus was quickly blamed, tried, and executed. Conspiracy theories about the assassination continue to prevail, but what is clear is that the Empire continued to ignore this province._

I stopped reading. The **Stone-Scales**? The Imperials forming the Argonian Royal Court from a lowly tribe? The Argonian Royal Court dissolving in the early years of the Third Era?

The Draconis assignment had almost been pushed to the back of my mind with the grim interest this text had spawned in me. Was this book truthful? If it wasn't lying, my superiors had been.

(**Learns-fast**): Leyawiin Castle

* * *

Now, defenseless, we were being led out of the detention center. Fury struck me every time I thought about how this had happened. We had not been cleverly duped: the enemy had captured us with mundane means, and yet even these far from genius means were totally inescapable. 

We followed the two guards through the door, transitioning from the narrow, dull, and eroded hallways to a wider, more aesthetically pleasing set. A facade for the uglier things that went on in this castle...somewhere. As our feet touched the carpeted floor, I kept concentrating for the next signal that could give me some sort of idea of where they planned to take us. We didn't know exactly where the Argonians were tortured, but it seemed odd for them to be leading us to a more comfortable and less practical area like this.

We ascended the stone staircase. I wanted this walk to drag on as long as possible, because I knew I wouldn't like our destination, but I was already having trouble imagining what could become of this mysterious scenario. How could this walk through the same halls the Countess herself walked translate into torture? It was mysterious, but a void of knowledge meant there was room for hope.

We turned the corner to face the throne itself. In the lavish throne-room, the Countess herself was at the throne, glaring at us. I became extra conscious of my own expression. How should I react? Should I settle my eyes onto the floor? Should I try to look confident? There was no clear answer.

The guards were not heading towards the Countess, though. They cut away from the carpeted path and began heading toward an inconspicious door to the right, under the balcony. Fear began to simmer inside me once more. As we walked, my feelings altered between a readiness to fight and the idea that the torture would be a dreaded inevitability. I just had to wonder which hunch would ultimately spur my fate. It all felt arbitrary right now.

When they opened the door in the corner, it revealed a dimly lit basement. We made our way down a small set of stairs. Was this where the pain would start? The tension was growing almost unbearable. I clenched my fists tighter.

When we made our way down the stairs I could see just how unwelcoming the basement looked. Boxes and barrels were scattered about, some opened, some closed, and cob-webs hung from the ceiling. Another guard stood opposite to us, his face exhibiting dull anger, his sword unsheathed.

The female guard who had been escorting us turned back to face us. "I'm not sure what they do down here, but we're not supposed to find out." Then both the guards turned towards the door we had just come from. The sound of boots hitting the stone steps and clanking chainmail was all we heard until the door opened and closed. No one dared break the silence with protest. Our own voices could startle us at this point. It was a painful reminder of the power they so blatantly had over us.

The remaining guard spoke to us "All of you." He said, then reached into a barrel and made an odd pulling motion.

Behind him, a large piece of the basement's stone wall began to sink into the ground, revealing an equally unwelcoming looking tunnel, leading even deeper underground.

"In here." He demanded, his voice simmering with contempt. He pointed his sword in our direction "You walk here, or I cut your legs and drag you here. All of you."

I noticed I was quivering. I couldn't imagine standing up to the power and protection his equipment granted him. It infuriated me that simple equipment could grant them so much power. It took no skill to pick up a sword and put on a suit of armor, yet its rewards were so great.

I began walking forward. Was this how I was to die? An anguishing death viewed as little more than a commoner? I had recommended suicide to the Shadowscales if they were captured, but the thought slapped me in the face: _I was really in a position where suicide was the wisest option_. But how would I do it? I had no equipment, and the guard was certainly capable of non-lethal take down. My mind seemed to boil over with panic. My thoughts seemed to lose their anchor as I walked closer to pain I knew I could never provide any comforting thoughts to counter.

The hallway was lit with ominously dim, orange light. It was like transitioning into a surreal nightmare. My heart was pounding.

Then I heard the voices of one of the Shadowscales.

"**Surveys-**!" Tienaava called abruptly. I immediately swung around to observe what had broken the seemingly endless silence. As I turned, I saw the guard had also. We both stared at the youngest Shadowscale for only an instant before **Cleaver** wrapped his hands around the throat of the distracted guard, choking him mercilessly. With beautifully fluent and intuitive teamwork, **Surveys-from-above** rushed towards the Imperial to add to the attack.

The guard violently jerked his metal elbow in **Cleaver**'s direction. **Cleaver** quickly moved his stomach back, avoiding most of the blow. By the time the guard had retracted his elbow however, **Surveys-from-above **had grabbed the guards helmet and threw it to the ground.

All the destruction was a truly beautiful sight, and I was anything but hesitant to do my part. I knew one second of peace could give the guard time to recuperate and finish what he'd started.

I grabbed the guards head and violent pulled it backwards. He stumbled slightly. **Cleaver **managed to extend his foot, tripping the stumbling guard and causing him to hit his head against the stone fall with a brutal crack.

Yet the guard was still alive. He clenched his teeth, and sucked in a sharp stream of air between them, trying to grapple over the blatant pain.

I pressed my foot hard against his neck. His eyes widened with panic and he thrashed violently as he saw death approaching. But it was all for naught. His last moments would consist of the same feeling of helplessness he'd given us. Without hesitation, I pressed my shoe deeper into his neck, just to make sure I was stopping his breathing entirely, feeling nothing but satisfaction at my own display of dominance. I looked into his eyes. His mind and body were in state of chaos, trying to find a way out of the situation, but there was none. His suffering was silent. His windpipe was blocked. We had prevailed over him in every way possible. I truly felt glad to be in the company of my Shadowscales. They had served me well. They had saved us all.

The guard stopped moving. He had silently slipped into death. We'd done it. We'd made use of every iota of the small bit of time and space we'd been offered and made world's of difference.

I lifted my foot from the guard's throat and noticed small wounds had been clawed into his neck as it was. My body was flooded with the hardy energy the kill had endowed us. I was ecstatically appreciative of freedom we could once again realized and the fact that my body was intact. The Argonian Royal Court had truly proven itself to be resourceful conquers. I felt euphoric.

If someone heard the ruckus and came down to check on us, they'd see the hidden torture chambers. If not, we could invent any story we wanted. After all, they didn't know what went on in this basement. Even if the Countess saw us leave, what would she tell them?

I smiled at the Shadowscales, **Surveys-from-above** seemed to be enjoying the same rush. **Cleaver**'s smiled was a good deal more subtle, but that was the most happiness than I'd seen in him since he left for Cheydinhal. "**I guess we'll tell them '**We checked out'" I said "**We should just close this door behind the body on our way back our way out."**

Soon we'd be out of Leyawiin, and we'd stay out of this county. If we were going to capture the rogue agent, it was time for a change of plans.


	45. Death in the Night

Sun's Height 13, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): Nibenay Valley

* * *

Even with so many people sleeping at this hour, this night (or, technically, very, very early morning) at County Leyawiin seemed full of life. Creatures of all sorts chirped and buzzed, the guards marched the paths, channeling so much time and resources into fortifying this border, and most importantly, there was me, moving through the thick mass of tangled plants beside the path, watching the oblivious guards, with all that had transpired brewing with in me. The odd book I read, my current target, the memories that this place brought back: it all made the night so alive. 

I was getting closer to my objective, but that brought me little joy. Normally the sooner I took out a target, the sooner I could get back to the sanctuary, but I was stuck with a life of bitter loneliness, walking always on a dangerous thresholds below which cowardice or insanity lied. But the adrenaline granted to me through the assignment stopped my thoughts from carrying too far, didn't let those thoughts hurt me as much as they did during the day. I was in the moment now.

So far, there was no sign of Captain Draconis, but I had no doubt been sneaking through this road for many miles. My body ached all over from all this hunching over, but I kept pushing forward, taking every opportunity for progress that was presented to me, constantly choosing the risk of over-working myself above slacking-off.

Then something on the path caught my eye. It was a break in the pattern of cobble stone, brush, and trees I'd walked all these exhausting miles seeing. It was a sign. Straining my eyes and mind a bit to make out the letters, I finally saw what they said:

Drunken Dragon Inn.

Was that the Inn one of the other Draconis boy owned? It certainly wrung a bell.

I took out the gift list again, my one reliable guide in these troubled times. Using my magically enhanced vision, I skimmed through the gift list again, looking for those words:

_Dear courier, _

_I would like to thank you again for agreeing to assist me. I was so delighted when a friend recommended you, and will certainly employ your services again in the future if everything goes well with this round of purchases. You can imagine how difficult it is for an old woman such as myself to get around. My children, darlings that they are, deserve the best, and I'm afraid I haven't been able to properly show my love and appreciation for them in quite a few years. But all that is behind me now! Here is the list of gifts I think my family would most enjoy, as well each child's current place of residence, which should be used to for delivery. _

_Matthias -- Talos Plaza District, Imperial City (he has a home there): Matthias always was a rough and tumble lad. The last I'd heard, he'd fallen in with some pretty tough characters there in the Imperial City. I'd feel so much better if I knew he was well protected, so I'd like for you to find him a nice cuirass. Nothing too light -- iron or steel should be fine. And, if possible, I'd like it engraved with "To my Dear Matty, I'll always be here to protect you, love Mum." _

_Andreas -- The Drunken Dragon Inn (he owns the place and lives there as well)_

That was all I needed to know. Much to my surprise, it would seem I would kill Andreas before Caelia. Just one more odd occurrence of today.

There was a guard standing next to the sign, his gaze distant, evidently feeling bored with his anguishingly long shift outdoors. Getting around him wouldn't be difficult, though. Not with all the shadows and plants that grew here. Then I could take one more name off my list, and bring myself closer to the one goal I'd already promised myself to complete: the Draconis contract. It was the one thing that felt solid now.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil

* * *

Entering Quill-Weave's house had been more frustrating than I had expected, but Quill-Weave did not appear to have woken up, so that allowed my nerves some time to cool. I was on edge ever since I'd pulled off that dead drop trick. Worry that I'd done something that might give away it was someone other than Lucien Lachance writing those words constantly enveloped me in tension, distracting me. When this distraction somehow degraded my performance as an assassin it filled me with frustration. 

Quill-Weave's house was actually rather cramped for someone of her fame. It wasn't downtrodden or bear, but it was small. It looked much like the other Anvil houses: stoney, and attractive in a way, but not very comfortable and organic. Either way, its small size meant this should be over fast. Then, with her dead, I'd have an excuse to go back to the High Rock sanctuary, after making some last "minute" preparations.

There was a staircase only a couple of paces away, but I wanted to explore the downstairs rooms first. I figured I might as well take any of the riches I can get.

Carefully syncing my steps, I made my way into a room to the right, eagerly awaiting to see what possessions she might have. In it was a fire-place, filled with ashes. To the right of the fire place was an eating table. To the right of that was a writing desk. On the wall, there were paintings. Though it was cramped, everything she could need was efficiently placed throughout the house. There weren't any ostentatious items for me to take, either. Intelligence wasn't something I enjoyed seeing in my enemies.

I turned back towards the stair case, disappointed that I might not feel the satisfaction of coming away from this assignment with heavier pockets. Now it was time to head to the second floor.

I placed my foot on each step with care, ascending towards the upper floor, where my target was, enjoying the feeling of the dagger in my hand, bracing myself for a kill.

As I made it to the top I noticed the balcony of sorts overhead had a floor made of weathered, ruggedly put together, unpolished wood. Though it seemed to fit with the ambience of the town, it looked like it was bound to creak, unlike the stone steps and floor. It wouldn't mean the difference between success and failure quite yet, but it was certainly something to be wary of.

I extended one foot onto the wooden balcony, gently sinking it into a plank, hoping with every instant for it to not carry a disturbance. When no noise came, much to my relief, I moved a second foot onto the wooden floor with the same slow caution, mentally begging the wood to not protest my arrival.

The door was my next obstacle, but it too looked ready to shrilly reveal my presence if I wasn't lucky. Even so, if I could get the door opened, Quill-Weave and I would be in the same room, so maybe her being alert to my presence wouldn't really mean anything at that point.

I gently pushed the door opened, coddling it into staying quiet. Yet it was only at about a thirty degree angle before it began to fill the air with creaks, which sounded as loud and shrill as breaking glass to an assassin.

I could see the bed, and the lump beneath the covers twitched. I'd awaken her. Now I had to put her back to rest before she could scream.

Now it was time to apply a whole new skill set. My own subtlety no longer mattered. I threw the door opened, causing it to hit hard against the stone wall, punishing it for revealing me, and charged towards her with desperation, panic, and fury.

I had not even built up most of my momentum before I skidded to a halt by her bed side. I lifted the dagger. She was screaming now with full force.

She was screaming.

I plunged the dagger into her throat, transforming the scream into an unnatural, stifled, gurgling noise. But it was too late for me to get away undetected. The damage had been done. My assignment was complete, but not without cost. I removed the dagger, now shining like a ruby, and then stopped paying attention to her entirely. She was defeated enough.

I couldn't escape through the front door, or anywhere near that. It would be too obvious. The only escape route I could see where these two windows in her bedroom.

I dropped the dagger onto the floor and viciously tried to pry one open, pushing upwards with all my might. Finally the stubborn window gave way abruptly. It startled me briefly, but I quickly moved to take advantage.

Fortunately, Quill-Weave lived next-door to the Count's Arms, a high class Anvil Inn, which had a balcony like protrusion sticking from its side to provide people with a shady place to sit. Right now, it was my escape.

I intuitively oriented my body and dived out the window and, in a blur of sensation, managed to find myself grabbing the cold stone of structure with one hand. The idea of how close I'd come to falling washing over me, giving me an unpleasant startled. Slightly shaken, I lifted a second hand to grab the stone, and then hoisted my self up in one strong pull.

As soon as I was up, I went to a prone position, pressing everything from the tips of my toes to my chin against the cold, hard, rough surface of my temporary sanctuary. I looked onto to the streets. A guard was already dashing towards Quill-Weave's house.

I knew what I'd done wasn't easily immitatable, and I hadn't been jumping out the window, but it would only be a matter of time before someone noticed me here. I would need to escape through the backyards and get back to the light house.

(**Fights-up-close**): Path to the Drunken Dragon Inn

* * *

The road was now full of turns as I ascended the hill. However, stalking the target didn't feel as satisfying and energizing as usual. Pride and flashes of the kill to come weren't going through my head, because my thoughts were tainted by the bigger pictures. 

I crept around the soft turn in the cobble stone path, which was flanked by a large most covered rock to its left, and beheld a building which was no doubt the Inn. But, much to my surprise, there was a man in a Leyawiin city-watch uniform next to its door.

We both seemed to see each other at the same time. The unpleasant surprise hit me hard. Blood rushed to my head, making it feel like it was filled to a bursting point. When the odd and unpleasant tingly sensation, which he most likely felt as well, washed away I was left with a new level of wakefulness. I had been spotted. I had managed to sneak for miles but now I had been spotted. Since I was already in my armor, I knew I couldn't act casual.

I moved back behind the rock, buying myself a few seconds. "Hello?" The guard's voice called, a hint of fear evident. Once again, I got the idea our feelings were shared. "If you're trying to be sneaky you're in serious trouble."

I could hear his boots against the stone pathway coming towards me cautiously. He may have been afraid, but I knew he could easily muck this up for me. The path was heavily guarded, and a yell to alert his comrades could carry pretty far in a place like this.

I needed to lore him away from that Inn door far enough so he wouldn't hear me enter, but I needed to begin heading the Inn before he saw me.

I began to creep around the rock. Plants slapped softly against my armor occasionally, but nothing that would blatantly give away my position.

When I made my way around the rock, I pushed the Shadow energy to the surface of my skin, then continued to the Inn. I kept my steps careful, and, consequently, small. I would have looked goofy if anyone could have seen me as I tried to keep my steps subtle and the Shadow energy on me at the same time, but of course, no one could.

The Inn was lined with windows. Most were already shut, wood covering them, but there was one that might allow me a quick look inside. I slowly turned my head to see where that guard had gone. He was now at my previous location. He wouldn't be able to see the Inn unless he walked back up the hill.

I crept up against the exterior wall of the Inn and slowly raised myself up so I could peer through a window, careful not to upset the generous Shadow energy clinging to my skin. I hoped time would be merciful to me, because the guard would eventually return to his post, and he was able to move a lot faster than I was. Every second registered with me.

When I had finally raised myself high enough, I could look into the brightly lit Inn. Directly infront was a level area between two flights of stairs. The sets of stairs were flanking the sides of a chimney.

I looked towards the bar area. I could just make out two people from my angle of view. A publican and a woman in Leyawiin guard uniform without a helmet. Andreas and Captain Draconis. That's where she'd been! I had an opportunity to eliminate both at once.

The Inn was mostly wooden, unlike so many other awing constructions in Cyrodiil, and that meant it could catch fire. Remembering how the "fire damage poison" was used against me in the Purification, I'd bought two bottles of my own. If I could lob one or two through the window, it probably wouldn't cause the entire Inn to burn down, but it would provide a great diversion. I had to throw strategically, though. I needed to lore them somewhere that would take their attention away from the door.

If I threw the bottle directly infront of me, it would break at the foot of the upper set of stairs; they'd have to walk up the stairs to investigate, therefore passing the door. That would mean they wouldn't see me enter if I timed it really well.

If the man guarding this Inn had not come back, it was time to shake off the Shadow energy. I slowly rotated to glance behind me once more.

The guard was nowhere in sight.

With that, I eagerly seized the opportunity, now liberated from the burden of keeping the Shadow energy on the surface of my skin.

I quickly reached into the pouch at my side to take out the bottle of "fire damage poison". The Shadow energy dissipated. I shook the bottle violently, stimulating the chemical reaction, then immediately threw it at the wall opposite the window before I could feel the new born heat of the bottle.

It shattered. Flames immediately leaped into attention, producing an orange glow that one of them was bound to notice.

I could hear this had alarmed the two occupants of the Inn. I ducked back down, twisting my body to peer at what was behind me with professional fluency. My alert level briefly rouse when I considered

I could hear feet against the wooden floor. They were coming towards the fire.

When I heard the gasps, I knew they must have been right across from the window, meaning they wouldn't see me enter. Forfeiting stealth, I pushed myself into action. Not fully adjusted to this new mode of operation, I sort of stumbled to the door.

I quickly threw it opened, viciously seizing what little time I'd been granted.

But something had collided with it the door when it opened. Caelia Draconis was on the floor, in a sitting-like position, holding her head, her face contorted with anguish and confusion.

I entered combat mode. I kicked the disoriented watch Captain hard in the face to add to her troubles, then, in one fluid motion, crouched to slit her throat while that small spot of vulnerability was still available.

I rolled backwards, just incase the kick hadn't knocked her unconscious. I pressed myself against the wall near the chimney to regroup.

From my new vantage point, unable to see the opened window, I noticed Caelia's legs moving limply upwards. She was being pulled up the stairs. Then, that mysterious force stopped and gravity once again took over.

"No." I heard a deep male voice, quivering in incongruous timidness. Then it thundered "What have you done to her!? I'll kill you!"

I heard the ominous, high-pitched whoosh of a dagger being unsheathed. By the sound it made, I could tell it was sharp.

He yelled savagely as he began to charge. My muscles tightened as I imagined precise, cold metal breaking through my scales. Yet I was the one with the armor. I should be able to win this.

Almost as soon as he came into view, he was within range of attack. Suddenly I saw the knife flying towards me. I squirmed with the half-second before it made contact, imagining the vile discomfort the weapon could cause.

Then there was contact. A shock was sent through my body. An unpleasant tingling sensation and a new level of alertness.

But the dagger had hit the most protected area of the suit: the upper chest. I was still shaken: the incident had been too close for comfort, but it was time to succeed in the area he'd failed in.

I retaliated with a quick stab to his heart. It ripped through his casual clothing easily. Simple and logical.

He grabbed his wound with a shocked look on his face. His mouth and eyes were wide opened. His knees buckled.

His movement stopped not long afterwards, blood seeping from the area he was holding and spreading softly onto the wooden floor of the Inn. My dagger was now painted with blood.

I stood in place, trying to process the force of what just happened. Two more foes conquered. My body was heated from the drama of the moment. But there wasn't the usual spurt of satisfaction I got from a kill. I instead wondered if that had been a moment of justice, or if I had just watched an innocent man meet a painful end while staring into the face of a sinister assassin.

I looked down at the plating under my neck as best I could. I could make out a small dent where I'd been stabbed, but it wasn't deep enough to cut through me. I felt an odd urge to laugh when I remembered the scare it had caused me, all for naught. But the bizarre humor was quickly drowned out by the fact that I was standing next to two bodies with a member of the Leyawiin guard likely in ear-shot not far from the front door.

I ran towards the door, the only available exit, in hopes of escaping the crime scene before he could witness my presence there. At least once I started running through the dark, I would be little more than a blurry shadow to him.

I exited the Inn, practically leaping with each step. Running into the cool night air, my eyes were forced to readjust to the level of light. But in the mean time I was flying down the hill, struggling more to keep pace with gravity than to run my fastest.

I heard a distant yell "Hey! Stop right there!" but didn't dare look back. I just kept moving with an uncontrollable speed, through the thick mass of plants, down the rocky hill, knowing a one wrong move would send me tumbling down the rest of the way.

The water. I needed to get to the water again.

I could tell I had solid distance from the guard, but I wouldn't slow down. I _couldn't_ slow down.

My eyes were now fully adjusted to the darkness. I could see the river gleaming ahead. It was my escape. They would never follow me through its depths.

The sloping was getting slowly more level, and the ground was getting steadily more swampy. Tripping over something was becoming less of an issue, but soon I'd need to generate my own momentum.

By the time the ground was once again flat, my throat was starting to feel cold and dry from sucking in the night air so rapidly. My armored feet clapped hard against the cobble-stone path. My throat ached as I drew in breath.

Then I found myself in the increasingly lush and untamed brush by the river. Plants slapped against my armored legs as I ran through the tangled organic mass until I heard a high-pitched splash as my foot clapped hard against the surface of the water. Then another. My legs the environment around my legs began to feel denser. Soon I would be swimming, and then I would be free.

When I felt the water reach my waist, I submerged myself into another world. Sounds were softened. Tall trees and distant hills were replaced with the soft river bed and the rocks that dotted it. Breathing heavily through my gills, I continued to push myself deeper into the river's sanctuary.

I knew I would live another day, and I had only one Draconis target left. Then, however, I would no longer be protected by the bounds of promise. I would have a decision to make.


	46. Approach of the Awaited

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Please note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 13, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): The Nibenay Basin

* * *

The firey clouds and orange light soaking the trees reminded me it was evening, but it didn't feel like it. It just felt odd, given that I hadn't slept the night before. My mind still felt crisp, oddly, and I was using it to take in the odd text written in the book I'd bought, which I currently felt incapable of putting down. Most of it was completely unheard of to me: 

_Though an establishment of native government was supposedly intended to grant the Argonian tribes located in the North protection, the magnitude of the slave trade has gradually increased since the Empire's first and only attempt to do so._

I looked back up at exactly where I was riding, which I was doing periodically throughout my reading. Though the book was certainly interesting, I knew I was getting closer to Muck Valley Cavern.

I looked towards the East with a new feeling in my mind. The book had talked constantly about this Morrowind slave trade, and now I couldn't help but look to the North East with a different kind of wonder. I had only been taught Cyrodiil was a threat to Argonia. Yet now I couldn't help but imagine other enemies plotting and mobilizing against our people. Frankly, I would feel more eager to take up an assignment to do something about the slave trade than this current contract.

It seemed like the slave trade would be something the Argonian Royal Court would be heavily concerned about, but I had only one assignment near the Morrowind border, and it certainly didn't involve the slave trade. But what if it was simply because the Stormhold and Thorn sanctuaries were the primary handlers of that issue? Still, the book had said...

Then I noticed a cavern: _Muck Valley Cavern_. It was time to get my head back into reality. I was sucked out of my fantasies and back into my body in the three-dimensional world.

This would be the last Draconis. Then, when I made it to Chorrol, I would finally make a solid decision about my loyalties, and see if my courage would really bid me to throw away all of the life I knew. As I watched the sky, with my horse trotting carefully towards the cavern, I thought about my place on Nirn, and how I effected others, how much and how little I really was.

I dismounted from my horse. After the long ride the ground felt harder and gravity felt harsher. Now it was my turn to do the hard work.

It was certainly odd to be assassinating someone who lived in the wild. It was hard to imagine how a person who lived away from civilization could get marked. Sure, I had assassinated plenty of tribals as a Shadowscale, but they were armed and organized, and combative. Sibylla, on the other hand...well, she might have been armed, and sounded combative, but she certainly couldn't start a war, like the tribal chiefs.

The more and more I looked at the Dark Brotherhood, the less and less distorted **Goes-in-heavy**'s views appeared to be. There was obviously a lot I didn't know about these assignments, but probably should.

Ever since **Goes-in-heavy** defected I'd been dancing between two states of mind, both of which seemed to change the very air I breathed when I embraced one fully: one state was distrust of my employers and the other was confidence that I was allied with the right cause. They weren't just two ways of viewing my career: they felt like two entirely different forms of consciousness. I knew, after this contract, I might finally find myself all the way in one direction. But I feared that moment. Already I got a dull anguish thinking about the fact that I had these kind of uncertainties in the first place.

(Aval Uvani): Bruma

* * *

I stared at the face of the statue carefully, trying to get that face hard-pressed into my mind. I scanned its attributes repeatedly. Though this was a face I needed to remember, the statue was another annoying reminder of exactly who it was the Black Hand thought we could recruit: a sickeningly lovable war hero and people's person. He'd provided accurate information about Philida, but I was still wondering if I was signing the Dark Brotherhood's death warrant by allowing this. Not that I would entirely mind seeing that happen; It would sure be a nice way to teach them a lesson about picking their recruits and sending me to do their dirty work. 

After looking over the face several times, I decided that was enough.

I hated his kind to begin with, and if I'd ever dreamed of meeting with a Champion, it was to cut him down to size in a passionate, full force fight, not to come all the way from Balmora to assign him duties. His name seemed to be everywhere these days. Every bard I encountered was singing "The Fall of Dagon" nowadays, and I hated seeing him accumulate that sort of fame just because he fought an enemy most of Cyrodiil could agree on. It took true cunningness to outwit Cyrodillic law instead of fight for it. We were the ones who deserved respect.

As I trotted down the first set of steps, bringing me down to the mid-level area of the city, I wondered exactly how this man planned to keep a low profile in a city that had built a statue of him. It was another way this seemed ridiculous. I twitched involuntarily at the thought. There had to be some way I could get back at the Black Hand for this.

I began walking towards the opposite corner of town, where this Inn was supposed to be. All the inconvenience this Champion was causing me angered me, and that was pulling my thoughts into fantasies of revenge. Of course, I wouldn't fight him: someone else would just need to receive my anger. Right now, that's what I truly thirsted for: a battle.

I kept replaying the idiotic logic from my meeting with the Black Hand that started this all. I had an odd desire to bring back the weird feelings there words gave me, but most of all I needed to remind myself of what I should never forget: their stupidity. _"With all he was able to accomplish during the Oblivion Crisis, I'm sure he can do the utmost for our organization" "I"m sure he will be a most useful spy. We will find out soon if he shall live up to our expectations with the information he's been assigned to gather. If he pleasantly surprises us we should certainly welcome him to our family." "Speaker Uvani, I beg to differ; if he's already hired us to carry out a contract, I believe he'll be more than willing to aid our endeavors." Idiots._ I was always surrounded by idiots, alone in a higher world. That's probably why they needed me on the Black Hand in the first place. Being the smartest person around gave me less to fear, but so much more to be frustrated about.

The urge to destroy bubbled inside me. It was what got me into the Dark Brotherhood in the first place. Now I hoped someone would just come up to me and give me an excuse to throw a few nasty words at their face at the very least. My thoughts were trapped in the way the situation violated me. I wanted that to change. I was ready for battle. Ready to make some regret they ever met me. I was ready to unleash the best of my skills and strongest of my passions for the sake of someone else's terror.

What was truly pathetic was that the Black Hand had been planning this meeting for quite some time yet never even thought of a way to make it anymore safe or useful than the way it was planned to begin with. Their simple minds had given them an arrogant assurance that there was nothing to be concerned about. The thoughts pricked me with fury as I walked passed Bruma's Guild Halls.

I was almost eager to get back on paths after this was over and strike down another bandit. No matter what I was doing, my thoughts always found there way out of reality and went to fantasize about some way to release my anger. Even some food and drink after this long trip seemed less and less appealing the more I thought about the current circumstances. I thought about stabbing the Champion of Cyrodiil for making me go through all this, but the moment of ecstasy that fantasy gave me was drowned out by the pain that I couldn't do so.

But, as I got closer to the Inn, another emotion was coming as well: anticipation to see the face of this famous warrior. Even though I hated him, there was something enticing about seeing someone of so much fame face to face.

My focus sharpened slightly: I did know this would be a significant turning point in my career.

Finally, the city gate came into view. Olav's Tap and Tack was directly to its right. I'd have to bring myself back to reality for this moment.

The Nerevarine had already caused quite a headache for us back in Morrowind, so I couldn't help but feel more than a bit mistrustful of this "Champion" of Cyrodiil. That, and of course, anyone respected by the general public of Cyrodiil made my blood boil.

I walked towards the door to the Inn. Behind it was the Champion of Cyrodiil, apparently. To think I'd gone from being a lowly murder to these bizarre circumstances. Now it felt like I was working for an entirely different group of people.

I pushed opened the door to the Inn.

At the table there was a hooded figure, his face looking down into his mug. He perked up almost immediately after I entered however.

I was looking at the face of the Champion himself: the Dark Brotherhood's oddest recruit. I'd seen the famous face, now to hear the famous voice.

I pulled out the chair to sit opposite him. His expression was solemn and serious. He didn't greet me with a smile and that was a good thing; It wouldn't have mixed well with my mood. Now I just wanted to make sure no one heard our conversation.

Behind me, the proprietor annoyingly boomed in his deep voice "What can I..."

"You get any closer and I'll turn your bones to _ash_! Back off!" I spat.

"Well...alright." The proprietor said. "I...guess I'll go get some fresh air." Then turned to walk out the door.

The release felt great. My mind was now crisp and free from the fury that had ensnared. I'd had intimidated him enough to cause immediate submission. I was fully justified in the glory I felt. It was good to be the feared and fearless Aval Uvani.

I surveyed the room before turning to the "Champion", eager to face anyone else who might try to listen in.

I could see no one. The supports, planks and everything else that held the Inn together were exposed. It had a practical, rugged, masculine look to it. All I needed was a nice tavern fight to make the ambience complete.

There was no one else nearby, so I decided it was time to speak.

"So," I began "You've decided to take part in the burdens and bounties of our organization. You leaked the information we needed about that certain high-ranking Legion member, they say." I kept my words purposely vague, just incase someone might be concealed behind bare wooden walls. The Champion nodded. His expression showed little emotion, but I could sense a dull anguish behind it. Probably pre-occupied with some petty problem, while I, on the other hand, had to come all the way from Morrowind for this meeting. The shallow world everyone else must have seen I envied them for!

I continued "Well, you've proven a useful...inside source already. My associates believe you should continue on that path. You should provide us with any information about the authorities you can." I looked over my shoulder again, knowing the sensitivity of the situation, but there were no eyes upon me.

I reached into my bag and took out a large, rolled up piece of paper, then placed it infront of him. Something in me changed when I'd done that. We'd sealed our pact. "This map shows the location of our four sanctuaries, with details on how to enter each. You may defer information to any of these four locations you chose."

Finally the Champion broke his silence, "What about contracts?" He asked, in a deep, slightly coarse, but quiet voice. It took my mind a second to adjust to that voice for the famed hero. I'd always pictured him sounding different for some reason: loud and confident.

"_I _have none for you. You may ask the other Speakers for such opportunities, but be prepared for rejection until you have proven yourself." I stated. We'd established every point. It looked like this hurdle in my career was almost over, and gravity was already starting to win me back.

"Prove myself?" The Champion asked, almost defensively. His harsh tone angered me.

"Yes. That's what I said. Prove yourself. Normally an initiate into the Dar..." I caught myself before I might shatter the sensitive secrecy of the subject of this meeting. Having already lost myself, I started the sentence again "Normally initiation requires you to...demonstrate you are capable of our craft. You have become an exception. However, my fellow..." I began to realize just how difficult it was too talk in such broad terms "...members of our council may want to see you are capable of such a task before they agree to pay you for it."

"I see," He said. He seemed oddly uneager to talk and monotonal when he did. It was almost hard to imagine him as the Champion. He wasn't a stereotypical hero, and maybe that was a good thing.

That was the meeting. I'd met with the Dark Brotherhood's oddest, and most famous recruit. I'd completed the task I'd journeyed so many miles for and felt unexpectedly satisfied. Euphoric, even. I knew a time like this would register in my memory for quite a while.

Now I needed a place to stay for the night. I looked over my shoulder. The publican wasn't back, but I'd probably use the Jeralls View Inn anyway. This looked like a pretty crappy place to stay anyway.

I pushed out my chair. Now things didn't seem so blatantly wrong. There was something to think about. Would the Dark Brotherhood's newest recruit really be the model citizen of Cyrodiil? I guessed I'd be sleeping on that question.

(**Fights-up-close**): Outside of Muck Valley Cavern

* * *

The last of Sibylla's wolf pack had retreated. My armor had made the battle easy, I'd never cut down so many enemies in one battle. I was quivering in an attempt to contain the excess energy. Right now it felt like I could cut my way through anything. 

As I finally walked into the night air, the breeze felt extra cold against my sweaty scales, but that was good. I felt warm otherwise. I had made a total of five kills in one run. Though only one was human, that still felt like quite an accomplishment, and the feel of the battle was still in me.

Now my armor and dagger were covered in blood and fur, though. It was a bit of a gross thought to imagine tainting my horses coat with wolf blood. I'd need to wash them off.

There was a small lake nearby, so I decided to wash my uniform off in there.

I approached the lake. Crickets chirped. The water rippled subtly. The night felt very much alive. I felt energetic and capable in mind and body as well, despite the lack of sleep.

I dipped my left foot into the water, then slowly noticed the harsh, frigid temperature of it as it seeped into my armor. I was used to swimming in warmer climates. I kept my foot still there, enduring the uncomfortable temperature for several seconds until it started to feel warm. Then I put in the next foot, this time bravely plunging it knee deep. It took some self control to keep my leg in the water. Then I took another step with my left foot, plunging it deeper. Almost half my body was submerged now, but it was plunging my upper body into the cold water that I felt a bit more apprehensive about.

I arbitrarily debated with myself about diving in all at once or continuing in little by little. Somehow, the first option won.

In a moment of courage, I forced myself deep into the frigid lake.

The lake clearly wasn't welcoming visitors, but all I could do was wait and let it do its punishment until my body had adjusted to the temperature. I hovered in place as the cold took its toll on me, then slowly transformed into warmth.

Then I swam. It had been while since I swam in the moon-light, and the first time I'd swam in the North. Another new experience for this all too alien day. Everything about me, and about the world, seemed different today.

As I swam, I began thinking about the decision that would await me. I had finished the Draconis contract and had already promised myself if I found another questionable contract in Chorrol I would leave these people once and for all. And that was all I thought about while I swam: I was thinking about this decision.

_Where would I go if I decide to leave? Should I tell the authorities anything about the Dark Brotherhood? What if I stay? Would I, under any circumstance, consider betraying again if the next contract seemed more reasonable?_

I had plenty of time to think about these questions, so they didn't cause me the same nervous feeling others did, thankfully. They would give me something to digest on the ride to Chorrol.

I stepped out of the lake, and was assaulted by a cold breeze. The cold was extra harsh now that I was wet. Maybe washing my uniform like that had been a bad idea: I knew I would face quite a bit of discomfort until I dried off. At the very least, I wanted to get away from the wind.

Up ahead, above the East side of the lake I could see a small, natural enclosure of trees and rocks upon a steep but short hill. It looked like a place that would be free of wind.

The water in the feet of my armor produced odd feelings and even odder, albeit subtle, squishy sounds as I walked up the steep hill. The cold was making my teeth chatter. Maybe my lack of sleep had effected my decision making.

Then, I saw something that caught greater interest with me than the current discomforts. As I journeyed up further I could see an odd anomaly in nature. Three of them actually. Some bizarre ideas ran through my head as I tried to process exactly what it was I was looking at.

When I was fully up the hill, it registered with me the anomalies were in fact three shadowed people, with only a few candles in the distance for their light. There were benches near them. Someone was trying to make this piece of the wilderness a bit more homey, but I wasn't sure why.

One of the shadowed figures, who I soon identified as a Dunmer with an iron dagger in his right hand, was approaching me. His posture and facial expression were stern but not threatening. I was more curious as to who built up little pieces of civilization in these woods than I was afraid I wasn't welcome.

"Who are you, who dares to walk in the House of Shadow? What is your business with Lady Vaermina?" He asked me. His voice neither conveyed pure innocent curiosity, nor pure, stern assertion of authority. It was somewhere in between.

"House of Shadow? Vaermina?" I asked, the name 'Vaermina' rung a bell.

The Dark Elf gestured to his right. I looked in that direction and was surprised to see another, even more elegant piece of civilization present itself. It was a marble statue that had been carefully concealed by a large rock from those who might approach from the East. It was almost as if they had constructed a room, without walls, floor, or ceiling in this little piece of wilderness.

"Here we worship Vaermina, praying for her to grant us true visions. What is your business here?" He inquired, his tone the same as before.

The words 'true visions' made this area tempting to stick around. I wasn't sure I did an adequate job at determining truth myself, and wanted my mind to be at peace. I had already promised myself I would be on my way to Chorrol, though.

"I have no business here." I said, my actions once again the product of courage and conscious decision.

"Then perhaps you should go, lest Vaermina take interest in your dreams." He said, and his tone made his suggestion all the more convincing.

I turned back towards Muck Valley Cavern and began walking towards my horse. Maybe we'd meet again. Anything felt possible now, in both a positive and negative way. If I left Sithis, who knew where I'd end up?

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil Lighthouse

* * *

I had managed to pass the hours even with the constrictions on the space I could explore. I didn't want to risk going back into town. The guards had already caught a glimpse of me when I escape from the crime scene. 

Somewhere, over the golden hills and through the Great Forest, the false dead drop I planted was sitting, waiting to be picked up. I kept trying to replay the moment I'd written it in my head, but by now the memory was so mixed with imagination I wasn't sure I could rely on it.

I was coming closer and closer to realizing my goal. My world was changing, finally. Now it was time to take another risk. I was a bit afraid, but I wasn't letting my instincts push me around anymore. I was in control of my life, not tagging along for the ride.

In my hands was a bag of coins and another piece of paper, which I had checked over obsessively for errors. Now I was sure it was fine. I'd triggered several false alarms already.

I had already instructed Lucien's fool of a Silencer to kill four members of the Black Hand. That should be enough to get them to summon the Night Mother, but I was going to take precautions. If the Silencer managed to kill Uvani, Hoar-blood, Shaleez, and Ungolim, Arquen would be next. Now I just had to find someone who would go into the city for me, and place the rewards and next contract where I'd promised it in the false dead drop I'd left in Chorrol. Then I could leave this county and head back to High Rock to tell my Speaker about my success with Quill-Weave.

I was a complete stranger in this town. That was usually the case where-ever I went, but here it was detrimental. I needed to make sure whoever I entrusted would neither show the letter to the authorities, nor keep the gold for themselves. I needed to provide quite an incentive to ensure both those played out, yet I really had very little, positive or negative, to offer. I needed a fool. Someone who was fool enough to believe they would get a reward greater than the gold I was carrying, and a punishment worse than death if they did not comply. It seemed like a hard to reach goal, but with enough time I knew I could find someone or conjure up some plan to do so that would suffice.

I watched all those walking the weathered planks of the harbor through a narrow opening between two rocks I was hiding behind. It was a large crowd. An opportunity had to be buried in there somewhere. I had all day to scan this area. If nothing else, my determination would be my prized tool for accomplishing this task.

There were sailors: they were known for being unscrupulous so they would likely be enticed by the reward, but they seemed too tough to intimidate. There was one drunkard staggering out of The Flowing Bowl: he might not think to betray me, but he wouldn't be able to follow instructions well in his state. The rest were common-folk: Easy to intimidate but not enough to become trustworthy.

I had been watching the docks for at least an hour by now, but I'd gone from reluctant to restless. Time seemed to be flying by in my world of fantasizing about the moment I'd dreamed of for years which I was coming so close to. The wrongs that had been done were coming back to me. They still sickened me. They still brought me fury. They still reawoke my truest desire, casting all else aside. What would soon happen to the Black Hand if all went well was also in my thoughts. It brought satisfaction. It brought me glee. Where I might have given the slightest clue in that false dead drop I wrote was on my mind too. It brought me fear. My emotions were climbing and falling hugely as I waited.

Then I noticed a more distinct figure straying from the crowd. A short one. An elven boy. He was walking off the planks towards the sand and grassy hills, not in the direction of any civilization. He awkwardly made his way around the rocks and rough shrubbery of the untamed area beyond the planks unto the shore at the foot of the hill, where the waves lapped gently against the sand.

Alone, in his own quiet world, he bent over to pick up a tiny rock, then, gazing out to sea, made a motion like he was throwing a disk. The rock sank through the air and into the water quickly, and ended its flight with a small splash.

He was young, seemingly soft, and, at the moment, alone. This looked like my golden opportunity.

It took a bit of willpower to bring myself to break the silence I'd maintained for so long, but in a moment of courage I pushed the words out. My voice sounded a bit funny to even myself.

"Hey, you! Kid! Over here!" I said somewhere between shouting and normal volume. He perked up and fixed his gaze on me with wide-eye interest. I beckoned him to come closer. He slowly began walking towards me, looking almost like he was entranced with fascination. I carefully shifted to get deeper into the shadows created by the rocks I was hiding behind, making neither of us visible to the other for the time being.

In the shadowy sanctuary I waited. I didn't want to let myself be one sliver less secretive than I had to. One small mess up could cost me my life's work, and I had already fought a lot of tension to bring myself to do this. I couldn't give them anything to reach onto if they tried to investigate. But I'd stalled long enough already obsessively checking over my own plans.

I could hear his footsteps now, soft against the sand or batting against the porous planks. He came into my field of view, but I knew I wouldn't come into his. He continued walking past me in his false world until I signaled that I was still present:

"Psst." I said, causing him to jerk and turn to the direction of my voice "You live here in Anvil, yeah?"

He nodded. His eyes and mouth were wide opened. He seemed entranced. Perfect.

I tossed the bag and rolled up parchment to either side of him. His eyes followed them only briefly, then quickly snapped back to me.

"Put this bag, and this letter in a barrel located behind the statue in the pond. If you do this for me, I'll give you twice what's in this bag." I said. Then I unsheathed my dagger and extended that hand out of the shadows, enough to let the point gleam in the sun, fully visible. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll know, and I'll make sure you die a painful death."

"Deliver these...?" He said, his voice quivering "Me...Right now?"

"Yes...r...no." I realized I had his imagination snared. I didn't have to stop here. He was afraid. I could make my demands more specific. Since there was a slight chance the Silencer might try to cheat the system and go straight for the reward, I decided to make sure that wouldn't be possible. "No. Wait. Place this in the barrel a week from now. Then, and only then, you'll earn your reward." Then I decided to add "I'll be leaving the light house, but you will comply with my requests. We have eyes everywhere, and we'll know if you betray us." Purposely trying to sound ominous, and loving it. I'd always wanted to say something like that at a time like this.

He didn't speak his reply. He just continued to stare at the shadowy corner with a look of fear, and nodded softly.


	47. Turned out Alright

A/N: I got some bizzarre errors when I tried to upload these chapters at first, so I had to go through some weird methods to finally get them on this site. They clearly have gotten somehow...damaged by the process (some of the text in the chatpers seemed to just have disappeared), and I already had to fix several errors after skimming them all, and worse, some fixes, somehow, don't seem to be sticking. Still, I've done my best to fix these errors. Murphy's Law seemed to have replaced logic while I was preparing these chapters, so please, have mercy. I'm not sure if this part of the story will be up to par because of all the damage done by the uploads.

Sun's Height 13, 4E1

(**Fights-up-close**): The Black Road

* * *

_However, these attacks share odd coincidences. First, both occurred during the Second Seed, in the same year. Next, both attacks seem to have been carried out to kidnap young hatchlings, while, oddly enough, seemingly more significant members of the tribe were ignored. Third, while both attacks resulted in death of one or more tribe members, both attacks were clearly carried out by a very small but coordinated effort. This is a rarity in inter-tribal warfare, in which most offensives are carried out through full-scale raids._

_The exact date of_

I decided it was pointless to read. Maybe I should just let my mind drift, or whatever it was really doing in its tired state. Most of the words wouldn't form coherent sentences in my mind right now, they just went in my eyes and out my ears. I'd gotten about as much out of this hour of reading as I would have gotten out of ten minutes under normal circumstances. I decided to book mark this page and save it for morning, whatever morning would bring. Reading just brought on another wave of extreme drowsiness.

Grass, hills, and trees. I knew the big decision was coming, but it was very late at night and, since I hadn't slept the night before, a hearty weariness was starting to take hold of me. My only real desire was sleep. All other passions that had rattled my brain that day had been muted. Every noise made my head feel like it was vibrating, and I couldn't find a single coherent thought in my head. It was probably about midnight by now. I hoped to arrive at Chorrol soon, but needed to make sure I could wake up a bit before the big decision.

Then, through the trees to my right, I thought I could see a stone wall. The city walls. Good. I was almost there. This day would soon be over, but not before one heck of a climax.

I was here to determine my loyalties once and for all. My weariness had served me well to block this uncomfortable truth from my thoughts, I realized. A natural high. But I would have to wake myself up for this. This might be the most important moment of my life.

I tried to drill my brain to get it back into attention. I needed my mind to be sharp for this decision. I needed to be awake again.

I warmed up my mind for decision making, recalling the events that lead up to this moment and thinking about the kinds of things that might factor into this decision:

I remembered **Goes-in-heavy**'s last moments:

"**There's a lot they haven't told you, because they knew this would happen. That's why they teach you not to ask questions, its not about trust." "The Dark brotherhood serves anyone who pays, and the Argonian Royal Court? The Argonian Royal Court serves no one but themselves."**

I remembered Primo and Dovesi's attempts to save my life from that Legion pig at Summitmist manor.

I remembered the kind demeanor of Perenia Draconis.

The adrenaline was coming back with the memories. The weight of my weariness was fading.

Now I could see the town gates and stables. Instead of waking the stable owners up, I decided to leave my horse there for the night and pay in the morning. I would sleep in Chorrol. Having to walk to another city to get some sleep would probably cause my brain to liquify before the journey ended. I'd lost one nights' sleep already.

I dismounted. My legs were stiff and the ground felt as hard as metal from all the riding.

I opened the stable gates and got my horse inside.Already my thoughts were on the contract under the Great Oak.

Good, thoughts were coming back. The thoughts weren't comforting, though. I was painfully nervous as to what the contents of the dead drop might bid me to do.

I began heading towards the town gates. At this hour, it was nearly pitch black. Except for my footsteps, the subtle crackling of the fire my torch cast, and the crickets, the night was silent.

As I got closer to the gates I could see another orange glow. There was a lone Chorrol guard man at the gates.While entering this city meant the world to me, he probably saw it as nothing but a mundane occurrence.

The town gates opened. 

I stepped into the city. I didn't want anyone to see me around the Great Oak, so I was aware I might have to employ stealth eventually. For now, however, things were different.

Guards were scarce on the streets, and they were the only people out this late. Street lights were dotting the city streets, but there was still plenty of shadow.

As I walked in the direction of the Great Oak I began anticipating what awaited me in the next dead drop. I felt a quick spurt of euphoria as I imagined the dead drop being something I could feel secure about: a contract to kill another pirate, or a target presented with a thorough explanation of why I was given the contract. Then I felt discouraged: it was probably just wishful thinking. Why should I expect the pattern to be broken? No, that was undue cynicism. I'd served these people all my life in one way or another: how could they be so bad?

I glanced left and right as I walked, but couldn't make out a single lit window or a single person walking the streets at this hour. I had these streets pretty much to myself. An assassin's playground under normal circumstances. A bit of convenience here.

It took a bit of willpower to continue towards the Great Oak. The tension of the situation was almost painful. Spurts of intense sensation at the thoughts of the significance of what awaited me wracked my body.

A squirmy kind of sensation started to take hold of me. I imagined both potential outcomes. A tension gripped my. My insides seemed to tighten.

Because I was getting close, I decided to extinguish my torch, just so no one would see me at the tree.

Each breath was a conscious effort as the tension grew and the proximity to the Great Oak lessened. My stomach was even beginning to ache somewhat. I knew it would take quite a bit of courage to read that dead drop.

I decided, however, that I should prepare myself to feel pain. I shouldn't raise my spirits if they could be dropped. I tried to imagine how it would feel to read another contract like my previous one. I tried to dampen my spirits for now. I knew that sinking feel all too well, and I knew the brutal temptation to be willfully blind I would feel if this contract did incriminate the Dark Brotherhood further, so I needed to prepare as best I could. I needed to condition myself for the less favorable outcome.

The Great Oak came into view. I clenched my fists. I would have just loved to put it off one more day or, preferably, forever. But I needed to be courageous. Oh how I hated the inherit injustice of it, though! The courageous always had to suffer, by basic logic.

I clenched my teeth as I was only a few paces away from the tree. Its branches looked like demonic claws ominously hanging over me. There was an impending battle between fortune and mis-fortune in the air. It hid the piece of paper that I'd been anticipating for days. The moment that had been on my mind and in my dreams was coming. All my weariness was now gone. I was as lucid as ever.

I looked over my shoulder instinctually. No observers.

I bent down towards the bushes and then began chaotically moving my hand through them to feel some kind of abnormality.

Then, I felt something. It was a sack, and under it, a piece of paper. I lifted the bag: it was heavy for its size. No doubt the reward.

I brought the parchment to my face, but the tension gripped me fiercer than ever. It was so intense I immediately looked away. I starred into the starry night sky, waiting for a moment of relative calmness, then looked down in a moment of courage.

I strained my eyes briefly, but decided it was just too dark to read it. A welcome delay. I pushed magicka into my eyes. The text became clear:

_If you are reading this, the Draconis family is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as a Silencer has just begun. _

For this contract, you will be given four targets simultaneously who you may eliminate in any order you chose.

Your first target is a traveling, middle-aged, Dark Elf merchant by the name of Alval Uvani. Uvani is a well-respected tradesman back in his native Morrowind, but his business often takes him very far from home. Therein lies the problem. Alval Uvani's wife, a resident of House Redoran territory, has become disillusioned with her husband's repeated, extended absences and wishes to dissolve their marriage, and has sought the Dark Brotherhood's assistance.

Alval Uvani spends a significant amount of his time in the city Balmora in Morrowind, taking advantage of the thriving Hlaaluu economy there. However, we have reason to believe he may be here in Cyrodiil as you read this, in the city of Bruma. You may wish to hurry there at once. Be aware, however, that because he is forced to travel alone on foot to the farthest reaches of the Empire, Uvani has learned to defend himself. He is a master of the Destruction school of Magicka, and is no stranger to killing.

Your next target is a savage Nord barbarian, living alone and exposed at a small campsite on the summit of Gnoll Mountain. This barbarian, Havilstein Hoar-Blood by name, savagely butchered the chieftain of a mead hall on the island of Solstheim. The chieftain's sister has forgone the Nord custom of extracting the monetary retribution of wergild, and instead wants Hoar-Blood to pay with his life. You, dear Silencer, will help put her family at peace.

You are to go to Gnoll Mountain, locate Havilstein Hoar-Blood, and send his soul to Sithis. Havilstein Hoar-Blood is more swine than man and deserves to die quivering like an animal.

I turned over the page.

For your third target, you must journey to the Flooded Mine, North of the city of Bravil. There you will find Shaleez, an Argonian hunter who was banished from her village near the Black Marsh/Morrowind border for the brutal murder of a Dark Elven family. Relatives of the murdered family members have located Shaleez, and demand retribution. And, since the assignment is a bit far for Morrowind's Morag Tong to handle, the Dark Brotherhood has been commissioned to perform the elimination.

Be warned, Silencer! Shaleez is a skilled and deadly hunter, and will fight like the desperate fugitive she is.

Your final, and possibly most important target is a Wood Elf named Ungolim, who resides in the city of Bravil. Bravil is also home to an ancient statue known as the Lucky Old Lady. It is seen as a symbol of good luck and prosperity, and the fools of Bravil often speak to the statue and wish for good tidings. Every night, poor lovestruck Ungolim visits the Lady and pleads desperately for the heart of a young maiden. This maiden is married, and her husband has learned of Ungolim's affection for his bride. He fears the competition, it would seem, and has commissioned the Dark Brotherhood to help in the matter.

You must go to Bravil, locate Ungolim, and kill him. The Wood Elf owns a house in the city, but he spends his days securely locked inside. I recommend you lie in wait at the Lucky Old Lady statue, and then eliminate Ungolim when he arrives for his nightly visit. He's generally there between the hours of 6:00 PM and 1:00 AM.

By all accounts, Ungolim is a deadly archer and a fearless opponent. Be vigilant, and bring the Wood Elf down! You must not fail!

When all four targets are rotting, journey to the city of Anvil. Your dead drop is in a barrel located behind the statue in the pond. As is standard, your reward and next contract will be waiting.

I lowered the letter and stood still, taking it all in. Every target's crime had been explained to me. Mr. Lachance believed in his work. Things had turned out for the better. It seemed optimism had won truth over. This was still a crucial moment in my life: maybe the most important one ever: Now it was time for my final decision regarding the Dark Brotherhood.

The handwriting. It looked a bit...different as well. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, but there was something. Was this some sort of fabrication?

Did someone like Alval Uvani really deserve to die for extended absences from his wife? What about Ungolim? Was that really fair compensation?

Should I really take this assignment or commit the disloyalty that had been brewing in my mind? My thoughts were slow, frustrating, and abstract. I didn't know where to start as I tried to decided.

My heart was soon racing as I poured over the decision with excruciating precision. I was stressing my mind to a point where I ached emotionally.

What was all this doubt rushing at me? When I came to the Great Oak I was worried about a vague contract targeting seemingly innocent people. Now, when I saw neither of those were true, I still tried to assess it further? Where was this going to end?

had crushed my instincts, I realized. He made decision that should be obvious so grueling. I had gotten just what I'd hoped for to justify this contract. I'd proved him wrong, yet the second my thoughts had started heading towards loyalty and optimism, they had violently bounced back. The Dark Brotherhood did trust us with information about their plans, and truly was devoted to justice, not money, and that realization gave me some comfort. 

I had made my decision. I couldn't bring these questions back anymore. I needed to push aside the cynical thoughts.

_I will not betray my employers_. _I will not betray my employers_. I thought, trying to press the idea into my brain.

"I will not betray my employers." I finally said to myself to burn the words into my memory. I had to say them outloud, or I felt like my decision would never end. I didn't have instinctual passion to keep me on track any more. My mind alone seemed too fragile.

Through reason, I had determined further questioning was unreasonable. That had to be enough to stop me.

I looked over my shoulder again. I could see an orange glow moving down the street. A guard patrolling along the side-walk by the mansion. His dark blue uniform blended in well with the night. As I saw how close he was, I felt like my head was about to burst.

My alert level went up as I realized just how long I might have been visible to him. Finding myself slightly dumbfounded, I subtly put the letter back in the bushes. Hopefully it would just look like I'd dropped my purse of coins and had gone to pick it up.

The implications of what he might think after seeing me there still ran through my head as I walked away from the Great Oak. I gave him one last glance. If he was suspicious of me, he didn't show it. Really, that was all that mattered to me.

I could feel a bit of sweat building up under my arms from the slightly frightening incident, but the thoughts themselves were slowing dissipating. Now I was starting to feel hot, but I just kept walked. I was too afraid of damning myself further.

But as I walked I realized the incident had done well to clear my mind of the nagging uncertainties of the dead drop. Now the world felt solid, and I felt confident and purposeful. It all blended into euphoria. I had reason to stay with the Dark Brotherhood. I had reason to trust my employers. They turned out to be alright after all.


	48. The Targets

Sun's Height 14

(**Fights-up-close**): The Orange road

* * *

After nibbling off the last bits of sweetness, I decided it was enough and threw the apple core to the side. It disappeared into the grass. 

Like my breakfast, I'd eaten my lunch on the road. They weren't hearty meals, but enough to relieve my hunger. I wiped my sticky fingers onto the pouch by my side.

The day was clear and sunny, bringing out the diverse colors of the Cyrodiillic country side. The grass and trees were a healthy green. The temperature was a comfortable warm. On top of all that, I was still with the Dark Brotherhood with suspicions washed clean from my mind. It all mixed together as a nice glazing of happiness over the day.

Yet even watching the scenery could only provide something to do for so long. Now that lunch was done I was thinking of things to do to keep occupied during the ride to Bruma. I tried to remember what was in the pouch at my side.

The book. The one that I found by "Scar-tail's" side. As the thought hit me, it tore a hole in the security blanketing my mind. I could feel the coarseness of that time coming back again.

I'd seen my next contract, and it restored my faith in the Dark Brotherhood. Still, knowing I was avoiding simple information dampened that feeling of certainty. And I knew my disloyal thoughts would come back when times got rough again...that's what had really spurred them in the first place. If I could finish this book, and all the other books **Goes-in-heavy** had read, and still come to the conclusion I was on the right side, I might be able to lock the uncertainties _forever_.

But was even thinking about something like this after I'd made my decision to stay loyal just needlessly chipping away at my mental security? Now that I'd seen all the proof I needed to believe I was on the right side, shouldn't I start moving my thoughts forwards, not backwards? Why should I believe an anonymous author's word?

Yes. I would save the book for when I felt doubtful again. In the meantime...

Then I noticed I was coming up on a T-junction. The road ahead was slanted upwards.

The warmth wouldn't last all day, as I'd be climbing the Jerall mountains soon, but at least it was Sun's Height.

Taking a soothing ride down the sunlit path, no longer hungry, and with peace of mind was a euphoric sensation. For once, it was the words _I can relax_ which wrung in my head.

I was now converging on a sloping T-junction. I had traveled the path ahead to the Jerall mountains to kill the old man, Baenlin or whatever his name was, but now I was seeing it from an interesting new angle. It was a neat sensation to come back to this same path.

When I made it to the T-junction I turned my horse to the left, North to the mountains.

Up ahead I could see someone on foot moving towards me. It was a reminder of how lucky I was to have a horse to speed up my travels. The figure was a mix of blue and red, but I couldn't make out any details yet.

I didn't want to stare at him, so I wondered where I should put my eyes. Keeping them anywhere for too long would cause suspicion. I wondered if he was trying to avoid eye contact too. I looked briefly down at my horse's mane, thinking more about how I'd find Alval Uvani in Bruma. I couldn't seem to provoke a very fluent or productive stream of thought, though.

I looked back up ahead. Now I could see him clearer. I could make out the contrast between his skin, clothing, and hair perfectly. His skin was a light blue. His hair was a reddish brown, put back in an odd hairstyle which made his hair-line look triangular. A Dark Elf.

I glanced off to the endless greenery of the forest to my left. The shadows of the trees under the mid-day sun cast a pattern nearly as intricate as the forest floor itself, almost overriding it. Flowers, grass, and shrubbery alike carpeted the ground. Unlike the tribal territory, it was always easy to see what territory belonged to nature, and what areas belonged to people here.

I glanced back in the direction I was riding. Then I noticed something coming out of the bushes up ahead. A man baring a mace. He was clad in leather armor. He never turned towards me, but instead looked at the Dunmer walking in the opposite direction. In fact he might have been unaware of my presence. I stopped my horse.

In a combative stance, he stood firmly in front of the traveler. He was clearly a highwayman, but from my angle I couldn't see exactly what was happening. Even so, I had no doubt the man was a bandit.

The unexpected break in the peacefulness of the day was taken a step further in one surprising moment. The highwayman became engulfed in a powerful burst of flames in a sound like roaring wind which quickly, but at some indeterminate point, took every bit of life from him. In ugly contrast with the emotional force of the kill, his body, now completely ashen, fell back without resistance and took on a less recognizable form as the ash came to rest against the ground. Once a man, now nothing but filth on the path.

Now I could see the traveler again. He seemed unphased. I didn't really feel bad for the highwayman, but the display really disturbed me for some reason, and I wished I hadn't seen it. I'd never seen someone use destruction magic so effectively...and I never would have suspected _him _to be such an amazing mage. I wasn't sure how I should react, and I was nervous because of that.

I could now make out the facial features of the traveler. His face was slightly wrinkled. Something on his sleeve caught his attention. He began viciously trying to rub it off. As he got closer I could see it was an ashy spot on his clothing. The bandit's ashes. I shuddered.

On his back I noticed a large backpack. Suddenly it added up. A middle-aged Dunmer, carrying a heavy load, on foot, with amazing skill in destruction magic. That was one of the targets: Alval Uvani.

But it seemed a bit gung-ho even with all the evidence to attack him right yet. I wasn't eager to kill him just yet. I needed some confirmation he was my target. Until then, I wouldn't want to plunge right into my tasks. My heart was pounding now, analyzing it all. _Was there anything else I know about him?_ _Is there any way the law will know I did it? _

If it was him, I had a very small window of opportunity.

With a bit of courage, I pushed out the question right before he could walk by.

"Excuse me, are you Alval Uvani?" I asked him. He shot a frightening glare at me.

"How do you know my name? What do you want with me?" He asked, his tone conveying he demanded an answer. I had confirmed he was indeed the target but, remembering the highwayman, I felt a brief spurt of fear.

"I...I heard about you." I said, not even sure where I was going to take this at first "I heard you're...a great merchant."

His face was contorted in a look of unjustified anger and disgust, examining me as if I was the most vilely fascinating thing in the world. Immediately, the feelings were shared. "A great merchant?" Then, he threw his hands into the air "I have no time for your pathetic attempts at small talk! Now walk away, before I get _nasty_!"

Unprovoked hostility. The mark of evil. Now I could safely assume he deserved this. I could feel unwavering enthusiasm for this assignment.

I immediately turned away back to the path and got my horse moving again. I had every intention to comply. I didn't feel infuriated or uncertain, because I knew I would be killing him soon enough. I felt secure.

This was a very straight path. It would be hard to lose him. It would also be hard to lose my enthusiasm now. His rude words filled me with a just and unholy passion clean and pure as ever.

But as my horse trotted forward, I noticed that I couldn't think of a plan to kill Alval that sounded safe. No matter how much I strained my mind it would seem he would hear me coming and be able to take me out like he took out the highwayman, whose "body" I was now passing. His armor and dwarven bow and arrows were preserved, but other than that he was just a pile of ash.

With half-hearted feelings and confused thoughts, I wondered if should dismount now just to make sure I wouldn't lose him, seek him out later in Balmora, or wait until we were likely out of the each other's views to turn around and see if I could locate him again on the paths. The decision wasn't easy. In fact, this wasn't a good environment for an assassination, especially for someone named after her tendency to prefer to take down her targets with close range weaponry.

Then it clicked with me. The bandit's bow! I might be able to make a take down before he could hear me coming.

I gauged he was far enough away to not hear me dismount.

I landed softly on the ground and glanced at my target. He was still walking South. He was oblivious to the meaningful changes occurring behind his back. I began walking towards the ashen-body, reflecting on the speed and effectiveness all the systems of his body were abruptly halted with: it could happen to me if I missed the shot, so I needed to make it count.

I moved a bit closer. I slowly brought my hand down to the bow to see if it was too hot to grasp. There was still some warmth radiating from it.

I glanced nervously back at my target. I would certainly look suspicious if he saw me, but he was still fixed on the South.

I kicked the bow a small ways from the "body". A gust of wind came by, rattling the leaves on the tress and blowing a gray ash cloud Eastward. I cringed with the creepy-crawly sensation as it stirred up some ash, thinking about what it would have been like if I had been in its path. In the mean time, the bow still rolled down the hill. I silently prayed to Sithis it would stop rolling soon enough so it wouldn't catch the Dark Elf's attention. To my blissful relief, he remained oblivious

I walk towards the new location of the bow. Another gust of wind came from the West. I was just glad it wasn't blowing the ashes my way. That would be endlessly creepy.

When I'd made it, I let my hand hover over the bow again. When my fingers were only about a couple of inches away from it, I could feel its warmth. In a flash, I touched with my fingers and then quickly thrust them back. There was no pain. The bow was still hot, but not a blistering kind of hot.

I picked up the bow and, again, glanced at the merchant. Despite the almost clumsy nature of all that I was doing, I still might be able to take him by surprise. Now, to get those arrows.

The pile of ashes now looked considerably less human after what the wind had done to it. Hopefully, the gusts had cooled the scene down a bit as well.

Feeling real and in the moment, I made my way to the pile of ash once again. I enjoyed the feeling of the solid power of the bow in my hand. I would be glad when I could get some ammunition and finally put one more odd in favor of me for this uncertain procedure. I hovered my hand over the arrows.

I gauged it was safe to grab an arrow. I quickly tapped one with my finger just to be sure. I was right. Though they were still hot, they weren't going to burn me.

I wrapped my hand around an arrow, careful not to touch any more metal than I needed to, and pulled it out of the case.

I turned back to Uvani one last time. I could still take him unawares. I primed the bow for the shot. I pressed the metal forward and pulled the string back.

As I peered through the sights, however, steadying my hand and getting the arch right seemed like a daunting task. Right now, my hands were quivering slightly. It would have been a lot better if I knew I could afford multiple shots: a lot less stressful. But no, my first shot would be my only shot.

Instead, I gradually brought the bow and the string back together, letting my two fists slowly meet each other until the arrow gently fell to the ground. It bounced briefly before I picked it up again.

I decided to close in. I needed to make my one shot count.

(**Learns-fast**): Chorrol

* * *

I had never been to the Colovian West before, but what I'd seen so far was leaving a nice impression. The city of Chorrol was bright, friendly, and cheerful. Its exotic beauty helped me forget about some my troubles early, but now I was getting closer to an area marked by my enemy, and I had never totally forgotten the contest of wits I'd gotten involved in. It marred the otherwise serene nature of the town. Lucien Lachance's presence in my mind was growing greater. It was his frightening powers that had devoured one of our Shadowscales for his own means. 

The dead drop was supposedly by "The Great Oak", but we'd only recently gotten pointed in the right direction. We were heading towards the tree right now. From what I could see, it was crowded. Citizens gossiping about stupid petty affairs. What made the situation so annoying is that they were getting in the way of our mission more than any Legion patrol or warmongering tribe ever could. If they saw me taking a letter out from the bushes, they'd be suspicious. Still, with the stakes so high, we couldn't delay any longer.

My heart began pounding, getting back into the mentality of this war Lucien didn't even know he was fighting.

As we got closer to the "Great Oak", which didn't look much different than any of the other trees in Cyrodiil, I began to survey the crowd:

Standing in the immediate area was a guard, though in contrast to his tough equipment he was chatting it up with another citizen in a laid-back manner. A tall man with a bow, and a finned girl (though I knew she wasn't **Fights-up-close**) were also present. Though none of them were watching me at the moment, I didn't know how long it would take me to find the dead drop in there, so there was still an all-too-prevalent risk of them seeing me fishing through the bushes.

"**Just go with the flow**." I muttered to the Shadowscales behind me without turning my head. I headed to the gathering place of the towns folk to pretend to relax just like them. When in Cyrodiil...

I found an empty bench, made cool and dark by the shade, and sat down on it. I tucked my tail tightly against my thigh. The other Shadowscales followed suit with silent obedience.

It was good to see that even with his time in Cyrodiil, **Cleaver** could still be docile and obedient in my presence. It allowed me to be enthusiastic about this. He was setting a good example for **Surveys-from-above**.

I turned my head to the right to scan the bushes next to us for some kind abnormality: A bit of off-white coloring that might be the parchment the dead drop was written on. But even as I looked in the micro-forest that was the area beneath the bushes, I could see nothing. I supposed it stood to reason, though. If I could see the dead drop letter from here, Lachance wouldn't have been very good at hiding it. I shouldn't expect the secrets of the Dark Brotherhood to be unraveled easily.

I needed to think of an excuse to search at least one of the bushes more thoroughly. As the birds chirped, the leaves ruffled softly, and the town's folk chatted, I was planning for a serious matter. We were the odd ones here in so many different ways.

I couldn't look suspicious, that's all I knew.

Then I had an idea.

I jammed my hands into my pocket, the cloth compartment tightened by the way I was sitting, and managed to pull out a Cyrodiillic coin.

I began a tossing game of sorts, throwing it up in the air to an unimpressive height and letting it land in my palm a few times. At an arbitrary point in time, I broke the pattern, purposely slapping the coin to the side, in the direction of a row of bushes.

"Oops." I muttered, trying to find a balance between actually acting and corniness, but realizing instantly that I wasn't the best actor.

I got up from the bench looked in the direction of the bush. The coin was plainly in view for me, but I made a point of crouching down and rapidly feeling through the areas of the bushes I couldn't see. I patted the ground a few times. After a few seconds I knew there was nothing in that area. I picked up the coin again and starting tossing it like before, this time making my way to the bush on the opposite side of the bench.

I knew this might already be looking suspicious in its own way, so I dearly hoped the next bush was concealing the dead drop.

This time, I threw the coin forward, then sharply whispered an Argonian profanity. The coin fell into the bush and out of sight. If they didn't catch on to the fact that I was up to something I probably looked like an idiot by now, so I couldn't wait to get this over with.

I once again crouched down and began feeling through the shrubbery. I patted my hand frantically in the area beneath the bushes.

Almost immediately I began to panic, not getting anything. _How many more times will I have to do this? What if she's already taken the dead drop? _Yet in the next second my hand was patting something other than stone or earth. It was paper. I worked my fingers around it and pulled the parchment from under its hiding place.

The success brought me a spurt of euphoria. I had a secret document of the enemy in my hand. My plan had worked. After brushing some loose specs of dirt off I began to read it. Now to find out what else Lucien was arrogant enough to think he could get away with:

_If you are reading this, the Draconis family is dead, and you are not. That is quite an accomplishment. But your work as a Silencer has just begun. _

For this contract, you will be given four targets simultaneously who you may eliminate in any order you chose.

Your first target is a traveling, middle-aged, Dark Elf merchant by the name of Alval Uvani. Uvani is a well-respected tradesman back in his native Morrowind, but his business often takes him very far from home. Therein lies the problem. Alval Uvani's wife, a resident of House Redoran territory, has become disillusioned with her husband's repeated, extended absences and wishes to dissolve their marriage, and has sought the Dark Brotherhood's assistance.

Alval Uvani spends a significant amount of his time in the city Balmora in Morrowind, taking advantage of the thriving Hlaaluu economy there. However, we have reason to believe he may be here in Cyrodiil as you read this, in the city of Bruma. You may wish to hurry there at once. Be aware, however, that because he is forced to travel alone on foot to the farthest reaches of the Empire, Uvani has learned to defend himself. He is a master of the Destruction school of Magicka, and is no stranger to killing.

Your next target is a savage Nord barbarian, living alone and exposed at a small campsite on the summit of Gnoll Mountain. This barbarian, Havilstein Hoar-Blood by name, savagely butchered the chieftain of a mead hall on the island of Solstheim. The chieftain's sister has forgone the Nord custom of extracting the monetary retribution of wergild, and instead wants Hoar-Blood to pay with his life. You, dear Silencer, will help put her family at peace.

You are to go to Gnoll Mountain, locate Havilstein Hoar-Blood, and send his soul to Sithis. Havilstein Hoar-Blood is more swine than man and deserves to die quivering like an animal.

I turned over the page.

For your third target, you must journey to the Flooded Mine, North of the city of Bravil. There you will find Shaleez, an Argonian hunter who was banished from her village near the Black Marsh/Morrowind border for the brutal murder of a Dark Elven family. Relatives of the murdered family members have located Shaleez, and demand retribution. And, since the assignment is a bit far for Morrowind's Morag Tong to handle, the Dark Brotherhood has been commissioned to perform the elimination.

Be warned, Silencer! Shaleez is a skilled and deadly hunter, and will fight like the desperate fugitive she is.

Your final, and possibly most important target is a Wood Elf named Ungolim, who resides in the city of Bravil. Bravil is also home to an ancient statue known as the Lucky Old Lady. It is seen as a symbol of good luck and prosperity, and the fools of Bravil often speak to the statue and wish for good tidings. Every night, poor lovestruck Ungolim visits the Lady and pleads desperately for the heart of a young maiden. This maiden is married, and her husband has learned of Ungolim's affection for his bride. He fears the competition, it would seem, and has commissioned the Dark Brotherhood to help in the matter.

You must go to Bravil, locate Ungolim, and kill him. The Wood Elf owns a house in the city, but he spends his days securely locked inside. I recommend you lie in wait at the Lucky Old Lady statue, and then eliminate Ungolim when he arrives for his nightly visit. He's generally there between the hours of 6:00 PM and 1:00 AM.

By all accounts, Ungolim is a deadly archer and a fearless opponent. Be vigilant, and bring the Wood Elf down! You must not fail!

When all four targets are rotting, journey to the city of Anvil. Your dead drop is in a barrel located behind the statue in the pond. As is standard, your reward and next contract will be waiting.

Alval Uvani, Havilstein Hoar-blood, Shaleez, Ungolimn. Alval Uvani. I had definitely heard that name before, but as of now I was having trouble pinning it to a source.

Then it dawned on me: Speaker Uvani! The one who trained the Shadowscales of the Helstrom sanctuary. He was to Morrowind what Lucien Lachance was to Cyrodiil, what Arquen was to Skyrim and what Belisarius Arius was to High Rock. I had spoken to some of them when we were running relatively low on Shadowscales in the Gideon sanctuary.

**Fights-up-close** was definitely duped. At once a new kind of destructive energy and eagerness to progress with the plan filled me, but the bitterness was gone.

I didn't know who the others were, but this was proof-positive Lucien was up to no good. He was blatantly endangering the Dark Brotherhood. He had the name of a Speaker on his hit list, and was deceiving a Shadowscale to do it.

My hand began to quiver as I held the paper. Adrenaline began to fill every nook and cranny of my body. My enemy and his crimes were so blatantly clear, yet so was the way to stop him. I no longer felt angry or violated. I felt energized and eager to put a stop to this.

The surge of emotion was amazing. It almost made me wonder if I had believed my own theories when I first came to Cyrodiil, if I had been true to myself, because I felt so much better now that I knew I was completely right.

I reluctantly took my eyes from the letter, so engrossed by it, and conjured up a plan. Ideally would be to contact Alval Uvani himself. The dead drop suggested he might be in Bruma. On the other hand, the quickest sanctuary to get to so we could alert the Black Hand and muster up some real power would be the Skyrim sanctuary in Falcrenth. Given that the path to Skyrim would bring us very close to Bruma anyway, it would seem like we could take small detour to Bruma to check for Uvani without losing much time. He would no doubt be staying at an Inn, so we'd just have to ask the Inn owners in the city.

It was time to go up North. We needed to show this to Black Hand. Finding our agent for interrogation was now a secondary priority.

I felt like starting the journey at that very instant. I'd explain the situation to the Shadowscales on the way there.

(**Fights-up-close**): The Silver Road

* * *

There was a spurt of immense satisfaction as the arrow hit right on target with a force solid enough to knock him forward. With an arrow right through his torso, he began tumbling down the path. 

He was the play thing of greater forces. I wasn't sure exactly when he died, but I knew the hit had done its job.

When he finally made his way to more level ground he stopped rolling. His body became a frozen shot of death.

For a merchant, he wasn't carrying much luggage, but I decided it would be a good idea to search his corpse anyway.

I began creeping towards the corpse. The fields were wide open, the sun was shining brightly, and it was great weather to be outdoors; the absolute last place I expected to make a take down. Naturally I swerved my head left and right as I walked just to make sure no one was watching through the vast greenery, but I had this lush hill all to myself as far as I could see. The birds and Sithis were my only witnesses.

When I made my way to the corpse I went right for the leather bag attached to the strap on his shoulder. I removed it from his still body. I looked up one more time, and then checked its contents.

In it was actually a diverse and seemingly random assortment of food and alcohol and a handful of lockpicks. It seemed odd, but I decided to shrug it off. I removed the lock picks and set the bag down.

I looked ahead to the shimmering lake and massive stone structure that was the Imperial city. There was still no one watching, so I settled my eyes back down on the cobble stone road again.

I reached into the pockets of his goofy-looking bright red pants. They were relatively shallow, and I soon felt the cold metal of coins in my hand. Dragging my clenched fist out of his pocket, I opened it in the sunlight to see exactly what he'd had on him.

In my palm were eight single-septim coins, four ten-septim coins, and one fifty-septim coin. I put the numbers together in my head briefly: 8 + 40 48. 48 + 50... 98.

I pocketed the cash in a moment of satisfaction.

Turning and walking North once again I realized it was time to start thinking about some of my other targets. I wished I hadn't dropped the dead drop now, but I could still recall the location of my targets: There was Halstien Hoar-blood in the Gnoll Mountains, Shaleez in the Flooded Mine outside Bravil, and Ungolim in that city. Since I was already heading North, I decided Halstien, or whatever his name exactly was, would be my next target.


	49. Assassins in the North

Sun's Height 15, 4E1

(**Learns-fast**): Falcrenth

* * *

Despite being referred to as the Falcrenth sanctuary, I remembered being told it was a bit outside of the city walls, in a long-ago burnt down village. Still, it was a convenient name. 

The sanctuary was actually a bit North of the city. Appearantely I'd be able to enter through a well. This was all knowledge I never expected to use and was glad I remembered it all these years.

Right now, however, I had decided to cut through the city to get there. It looked a lot like Bruma, but with a bit more ruggedness, both in the buildings and the citizens themselves. It was like a whole different world here when compared to Black Marsh. After all my time in these new and exotic locations, I knew Black Marsh would never feel the same. I'd been to Cheydinhal plenty of times, but I'd never travel to the North or West of that area.

I was endlessly anxious to show the Black Hand this dead drop. Probably the strenuous walk was the only reason I was able to sleep last night.

(**Fights-up-close**): Gnoll mountains

* * *

Even in the month of Sun's Height, it seemed incredibly cold on the peaks of the Gnoll mountains. Worse, it was windy, and the gusts of wind were making my arms feel fuzzy, losing the acuteness of sensation there. The breeze seemed to pierce right through my clothing. Snow blew like cold sand onto my face, making my eyes water, its beauty having long worn off on me. Since there were no mountains in Argonia, I had possessed no idea of what I'd been in for when I started climbing. 

I had expected it was going Northward that made Bruma so much colder. I figured I wouldn't have to reoutfit myself to climb up here, but I was starting to get the idea elevation could make a place colder too.

Right now I envied the non-Argonians. I would have loved to have a head full of hair. I knew it required a ton of maintenance, and that it made person hygiene a living hell, but all that would hardly have been a concern now. It was cold.

On top of the cold, I was really starting to feel the steep climb up this mountain. My legs ached. Though I thought I could feel the muscles getting firmer as I walked, it wasn't like I needed anymore physical training.

My target must have been prepared for this kind of weather. He might have some warm clothing. The perfect motivation to kill him.

As I thrust my legs, I made it to yet another peak. The visibility wasn't great anywhere in the Gnoll mountains, given that the wind was constantly stirring up snow to cover the distance, so I was using every opportunity to survey the distance I could.

This time, however, I thought I could see a spot of orange light through the flurry of snow. A campfire? It wasn't far all that far away. My target? Probably. I didn't know who else would camp up here.

The wind continued to blast me, as if it was infuriated by my presence. It made odd, eerie noises through the mountains. But this discomfort looked like it might be over soon.

I began walking in the direction of the light. At this point it was so loud from the roaring wind and fogged by snow I wasn't even concerned with stealth. It felt more like I was journeying towards my target than sneaking up on him.

As the fire took better focus, I could also see a human silhouette through the flurries. The roar of the wind muffled pretty much all sound, though.

The movements of the silhouette suggested he had smaller matters on his mind. None the less, as I walked, I moved to the left where I could approach him from behind.

Walking diagonally leftwards, I got closer and closer, his form becoming more precise. His figure was bulky, likely because he was heavily protected from the cold. He seemed to be cooking coming over the fire. I could even begin to smell it. Smoky and meaty, it awoke my hunger. After I killed him, I'd make sure not to let it go to waste.

The more I walked the better I could make out his equipment. He was wearing fur armor. He'd laid down a mace next to his side. A barbarian by Cyrodiillic standards, and, for me, a target that made me feel a bit more at home after dealing with all the savages in the inner swamps.

As I got closer and at better angle, the wind was becoming more of a friend than an enemy. Its noisy howls were concealing my footsteps.

I was now within arms' reach of Hoar-blood's back. The problem was, his back was armored. His fur helmet even seemed to cover the back of his neck. Though he was oblivious to my presence, going on about his petty affairs, he was already causing me difficulty. The only way to kill him seemed awkward, and that would be to bring my knife infront of his neck and pull back.

Armor: childishly simple yet frustratingly effective.

I wasn't eager for a direct confrontation, which is probably what I'd get if I made my way into his field of view.

He poked at the fire with a stick, in his own reality, while I kept my breaths shallow and tried to think of what to do. My reality was much more intense than his.

Hoar-blood put the stick he was using back on the snow. The thin wisps of smoke on its orange- glowing tip were quickly carried away with the snow, and the bright orange glow faded as well. Hoar-blood went back to just watching the fire.

The best idea I could think of so far would simply be to grab him around the eyes and jerk his head back, then slit his throat. If I did it quickly enough, I could avoid a direct confrontation. If not, things would soon get a lot more complicated.

I tried to mentally prepare myself. The idea made me tense. I just wanted to wait for a moment of relative calm.

Breaking my own bounds of cowardess, I grasped my hand around his head, the violently jerked it back. He let out a deep and frantic yell before I slit his throat with one clean cut, then stepped back as he fell backwards off his chair, now in a storm of panic. His clumsy armored hands grasped around his throat and he rolled on his side to turn to me, a look of terror before his life faded. The wound began slowly dyeing the snow red.

The wind continued to glow, playing with what little bits of his long hair drooped beneath his helmet. Everything else continued, but now the world had one less injustice in it. I had done the world a little bit of right. I'd done my duty. I'd won a small victory in the endless war I'd enlisted in.

Though Hoar-blood had assimilated with the harsh lifelessness and deathly cold here, I was finally finding my way to warmth as I sat by his fire in his seat. I felt euphoric to find a source of warmth.

The smell of the meat combined with all the hard work had awoken a savage hunger in me. Its smokey, succulent smell, and even the tiny crackling of the bubbling grease that seemed to be soaking it didn't bypass my senses in the least. It just looked like it needed a little longer to roast.

My stomach made an odd, high pitched moan as I waited. It was nice to be warm, but at the same time the wait for the meal was killing me. Since there were no mountains in Argonia, I'd had no idea what I'd been in for when I came up here.

I did managed to make one decision as I sat there waiting, however: once I was finished with this assignment, I'd go right back to Bruma. I wanted a good night's sleep before I began to head South, the location of my next targets.

(**Learns-fast**): Outside of Falcrenth

* * *

Now out in the vast, rolling country side, I could see the burnt village up ahead. The charred skeletons of the buildings were still standing, as were several planks. There was enough reminense of the past to allow the place to act as a good spot for concealing darker activities, but enough destruction to, apparently, deter anyone from rebuilding this village. 

To the citizens of Falcrenth it was probably little else than a bad memory or a scrap in the countryside. To us, it was so much more. We could finally put an end to Lucien Lachance and look like heros in the Dark Brotherhood's eyes. It was exhilarating. It put me in a state of passion, energy, and lucidity I hadn't felt in years. Decades, even.

As we walked towards the village, I was fantasizing about apprehending Lachance with the Black Hand. I was imagining my victory in an impassioned struggle as we worked together to bring him down. No doubt they'd want him executed and, at this point, I would have loved to do the honors, and say something really deep, terse, and intelligent right before he died, just like in the books. It was childish, I knew, and chances are when I got there it would never happen that way, but moments like this made me different. That, and there wasn't much else I could think about as we did all this walking.

I had to pull myself back to reality when we made our way to the village grounds and could see the well in the center of town.

The irregular shapes and excellent hiding spots in these ruins could translate into some pretty creepy scenarios, but I supposed this burnt village wasn't as eerie as the abandoned house idea. Either way, it was certainly a lot more subtle.

I made my way over to the well, already beginning to imagine the secrets this village held underneath it. The mark of death the fire left was only the beginning. What was beneath the village was far more lethal.

Soon we were right infront of the well. The anticipation wrapped around me tightly.

I curled my fingers around the strip of cold black metal in the grating above the well, then lifted it open with a metallic creak. The well looked about 15 feet deep, but there was a ladder to climb down the floor of the well.

"**C'mon**." I told the Shadowscales behind me "**You can provide useful testimony.**"

I climbed onto the edge of the well, grabbed a rung, took my feet off the stone edge and let them dangle in the air until they could find their own wrung. It was an awkward way to enter this sanctuary, but the entrances to Dark Brotherhood territory were usually unwelcoming.

When my feet touched the stone floor of the well I released my grip on the rungs and turned to see what this room at the bottom of the well looked like. In the meantime, the other two were still climbing.

The room ahead was small, and appeared to be half-way between a man-made structure and a cave.

I took a step forward into the room as the other Shadowscales climbed down behind me. The floor was tiled, and some areas covered in bricks, but its structure seemed to be subject to nature's will. The bricks and tiles seemed like nothing more than an attempt to mask nature's dominance here.

I turned to my left to see another set of rungs attached to one of the rag-tag brick walls. Obviously it didn't lead back up to the village, so it was definitely the entrance to the sanctuary.

When I heard the final set of feet hit the floor I knew it was time to ascend the other ladder.

I put my hands on the cold, metal rungs, not really sure what I would find when I made it to the top.

I only had to climb about half as many rungs as the first when I found myself face to face with a door much like the one in Cheydinhal, except a bit less flashy. I propped myself up onto this new ground. Now it was like I was in another secret little world, which was true enough. It didn't feel like dried well, a village, or even Skyrim anymore.

I banged the metal knocker hard against the stone door. As I waited for someone to answer, I put my hand near my pocket which was bulging with the crumpled dead drop note. My heart was pounding as I waited. I was charged up to finally show the Black Hand Lucien's true nature. I felt like I could hardly keep still. My path was wonderfully clear now. All other thoughts were pushed aside.

As I heard the muffled footsteps approaching the door I answered the question before it could be asked "Sanguine, my brother." I had an animalistic fixation on my goal as it got so close.

The heavy stone door rumbled its way opened. The opener was a tall, somewhat unkept-looking woman.

She spoke in thick Nordic accent "You know the password. As mistress of this sanctuary I will grant you the privilege of my ear, but if you do not have legitimate business with the Dark Brotherhood your time with me will be up very shortly." She said in arrogant dryness, bringing her hand to her sheath.

"Save the attitude," I said, already thinking of the ways this could play out if she gave us a hard time "I've got important news for Speaker Arquen. The Dark Brotherhood has a traitor in its ranks."

I took the crumpled paper out my pocket and flattened it a bit, and then handed it to her. After she grabbed it I asked "Any of these names look familiar to you?"

She scanned the paper, probably bringing her ego down to its appropriate size as she came to feel the weight of what I'd come to profess. She didn't reply at first. She was absorbed by the mysterious dead drop. I could hear the naive joys of the Skyrim sanctuary coming from behind her, but she was completely silent. On her face I could see an encroaching astonishment. It was coming upon her gradually, slowly, and gently, but coming none the less, and hopefully allowing her to see the importance of my visit.

Finally she took her icy blue eyes from the paper. "Havilstien Hoar-blood. He is already dead..." then, after a small delay as if overcoming some emotional obstacle "...but a great assassin while he lived, and certainly a loyal member of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Dead? When did this happen?" I asked. Did **Fights-up-close** do the job? It couldn't be. I'd only...

"He was killed years ago. He was on a special assignment for our Speaker, Arquen." She looked down at the letter again briefly and rubbed her armored foot against the ground, softening either because of her memory of Hoar-blood's death, or because she realized she was dealing with a force greater than her. "Alright, your find is intriguing. I will show you to Speaker Arquen's sanctuary. You will discuss the rest with her."

Without giving us another glance, some reminense of her haughtiness still noticeable, she walked towards the ladder and began climbing down it. This is what I wanted: to meet with the high level officials so they couldn't continue living in their artificial world of cocky carelessness.

When she made it to the bottom, I followed. As I descended, I was glad to finally have a solid cause, a known enemy, and a clear benefit awaiting me

We repeated the process up the next ladder. This was progress. Soon the truth would be clear, the menaces defeated, the arrogant humblized, misunderstandings dissolved, and the dedicated glorified, ultimately leading to a more trustworthy relationship between our organizations and a Dark Brotherhood that was a bit more allegiant to us.

Now we were in the burnt village again. I followed the mistress towards the remains of one of the larger burnt buildings. She was beginning to head through a ruined alley.

I wasn't exactly sure what the original purpose of the building we were walking by was. Little more than the floor was left on ground level.

The mistress seemed to have her eyes on the building's cellar door. The fact that the cellar door was perfectly intact made it the most conspicuous part of the building, but a basement also seemed like an intuitive location for a Speaker's sanctuary.

She took out a key and opened the cellar door, then began to descend down its steps. I noticed her face seemed to have softened as I caught one last glimpse of her before she disappeared beneath. Now it felt like we were really working together and might be able to tackle this situation. The barriers between us were falling, and soon the barriers between them and Lucien would be growing, until those walls would go to push him out of existence.

I followed down the cellar steps. They creaked and moaned in their old age as we walked down.

When I made it to the bottom, back onto a stone floor, I could see a woman in black robes sitting behind an incongruous desk in the far-right corner of the room. Just by looking at this cellar, it was clear she embraced the grotesque even more than Lucien Lachance: the floor had several human skeleton randomly scattered around on it, a wrack of sharp blades of all sizes and shapes hanging behind the desk, and it looked as if viles of blood were sitting a top of one of the many crates. I never could figure out exactly what the bizarre fancies of the Dark Brotherhood were about, but I didn't care much at the moment. I was here to finally make some progress with this whole Lachance-Crisis.

The mistress was already ahead of us

"Arquen," She said, and then handed the dead drop to the Speaker. As we walked towards the desk the mistress turned to us. "Prepare to explain yourselves." The mistress said. It was good to see, even after being betrayed by an ally I'd trusted for years, I was being helped out in the Skyrim sanctuary.

We were now standing next to the mistress, watching the reaction of Arquen as she joined us in our world of seriousness and purpose. Arquen was gradually bringing her hand to her gaping mouth as she read the words. There was naught but silence, allowing her to take in nothing but the astounding text.

She flipped the letter. Her hand was now gently covering her mouth as her world transformed around her. It was nice to finally not feel so alone in all this. With her expression, she seemed like sure-fire ally. "Oh dear." She said to herself. I began preparing my explanation.

She slowly lowered the letter, and I knew that was my que to begin explaining.

"These were dead drop targets Lucien Lachance gave to his Silencer, formerly one of my Shadowscales. So far we've identified two targets on that list as Dark Brotherhood members, alive or dead." I could see my words held a lot of significance to her.

"Havilstien Hoar-blood..." she said, her voice trailing off "he's my...I mean, he was my..." she fumbled with her words, then looked straight at the woman we'd arrived with "Saga, please allow us a moment of privacy."

She immediately complied, walking briskly out of the basement.

I looked at Arquen with anticipation. The surprise was still plastered on her face. There even seemed to be some evident distress in her expression. When we heard the cellar door shut, marking the beginning of our privacy, Arquen spoke again, now with better composure. "Hoar-blood has been my Silencer for years. You know the meaning of that position, correct? My personal assassin. Alval Uvani is one of our Speakers..." then, flipping the page over again almost as if she still didn't fully believe what she'd read "...even worse Ungolim is the Listener! If we lose the Listener we'll become like a hand with no thumb! Shaleez...she's his Silencer! Lucien Lachance wrote this, you said?" She asked, once again second guessing blatant reality

I nodded.

The breath I was about to use to speak barely made its way out of my mouth when an unexpected voice broke into the conversation. It was **Cleaver**. "He's done worse already..." At that moment all eyes were intently fixed on him. Though I already knew what he was referring to, I was interested to hear how he'd tell her the story, "He ordered that same agent to kill off the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary. I was forced to feign my own death in order to survive. I have no doubt every other family member was killed." He finished with a look at the floor. The memory seemed to exasperate him. I turned back to Arquen. Her shock was still evident. Finally we didn't have to keep this all to ourselves.

"My Silencer is indeed camping in Gnoll mountains, to hide from the law of Skyrim. I will send a courier to retrieve him. We can discuss how to deal with this crisis that threatens the Dark Brotherhood once he arrives." She closed the book she was reading, then with a face of genuine concern, said "You may make yourself at home in my sanctuary. I will need you to be in my proximity so I can contact you as soon as Hoar-blood arrives."


	50. DOA

Sun's Height 15, 4E1

(**Learns-fast**): Skyrim Sanctuary

* * *

I was getting restless here in the Living Quarters. I wanted nothing more than to see what the next step in our plan to bring down Lachance would turn out like, but it had been about four hours since the courier left. 

Right now I was nibbling on a piece of bread. I wasn't eating because I was hungry, I was eating because I needed something to do while I waited to see some action.

I wasn't sure where the Shadowscales were, but as best I could guess they were in the training room. I would have done some training myself, with all adrenaline and destructive obsession in me, but I knew I probably wouldn't end up doing any fighting.

All the while I'd been eating, I'd been filtering through abnormalities in the muffled noises outside of the living area for some indication the courier might have arrived. Nothing was obviously telling me that yet.

It wasn't the wait that was killing me as much as the uncertainty of when the wait would end. I would have loved to have had some kind of estimate in advance. I wanted to be here as soon as the courier arrived so I wouldn't lose a second, but that made me essentially waste these four hours. I didn't want to do anything outside of this sanctuary because of it.

Then, behind me, I heard a promising sound. The doors to the Living Quarters had burst opened. I quickly got up from my chair and turned to see who was responsible.

The opener had been a man in a white coat, boots, goggles, and a hat. A scarf was draped around his neck, as if he'd just relinquished its protection. Behind him were the **Cleaver** and **Surveys-from-above**.

"Sir!" the man yelled in a Nordic accent "The agent is dead! Arquen has requested your audience immediately" The agent...Hoar-blood. Did **Fights-up-close** get to the dead drop before us?

I immediately got up from my seat, entranced by the situation. I could see fear in the courier's face. His eyes were wide opened. Though I wasn't sure how this happened, I was glad to some extent. It showed the Dark Brotherhood exactly how drastic the situation was.

Already the wait had eaten up too much of my day, but now it seemed clear we'd get to see some action. That, and it was clear he had made an effort to get this news to me as soon as possible, given that he was still in his mountain climbing attire.

"Come with me." He said. I walked through the door into the main hall, following him like the other two Argonians.

The other assassins of the sanctuary were left out of the loop about all this as far as I could tell. They were still in their shallow, predictable lives, chatting it up about their latest kills, or training to take down typical targets, or the like.

My attention was focused on the wall to my left, where the door to the mud-room, and ultimately the secret well-entrance, was. The bricks rushed by my face as we walked briskly to the next way-point of our epic inter-provincial crisis.

The messenger opened the door to the mudroom as we journeyed back. My whole career felt different now. I was living a genuine adventure. I was filled with all kinds of bizarre bitter-sweet emotions that seemed to touch the deepest levels of my soul.

The courier positioned himself on the ladder and began to climb down. **Cleaver **quickly followed, with the teenage Shadowscale coming in next, and myself last.

Once I made it to the bottom the courier was already climbing up the other ladder. I was already starting to think about what new surprises, like Arquen's plan, would await me once on top.

Once again, **Cleaver** was followed by **Surveys-from-above**, followed by me.

Even though I was used to working behind a desk I felt proud as my hands grasped the cold-metal rungs.

It was so much easier to be passionate and confident when fighting an enemy I knew personally.

I made it to the surface. The sky was still blue and the clouds were still white, but the position of the sun was relatively low. As I looked at the sky, I thought of the vast world it blanketed, and how much of that world I'd now seen.

As my eyes got to focusing on what was directly infront of me, I saw Arquen was already standing at the well-entrance, waiting for us. As I approached, she began to speak, but her eyes were cast timidly to the side.

"As you know," she began with a mournfully tinted tone "Havilstien Hoar-blood was found dead. That likely means your assassin will continue to kill off the targets, one by one." Her voiced held a genuine sadness. It was odd, but her presence seemed...soothing. Not that such was necessarily a good thing in a time like this. "We have no choice but to immediately take action to put this crisis that threatens the Dark Brotherhood to an end."

"What do you propose we do?" I asked. The wind howled through the vast lonely world around us.

"We must immediately begin to gather the powers of the Black Hand. Morrowind and High Rock must are not yet be aware of this crisis. We also have a crucial ally in Cyrodiil I believe can assist us. Once we have their support, we must start hunting for the betrayer, Lucien Lachance!"

"Go on. Where are headed first?"

"I have decided we should split into two groups. You three should journey to the city of Bravil to alert Ungolim to the approaching danger, and awake your agent from the deception she is under. I will begin gathering the combined power of the Black Hand to hunt down Lachance. We can expect to find Lachance in his sanctuary, Fort Farragut." She thought for a moment, while I was pouring over what I'd just heard. Two groups? "I will send you with my courier. He knows the location of Ungolim, our Listener." She looked down "May the Night Mother hold you in her cold embrace." she spoke solemnly before parting with us, as her courier stayed at our side.

As she walked off, I was slightly appalled by the turn of events. I was being asked to protect the Listener, while they hunted for Lucien? I was expected to protect one of their own, while they were chasing after the target I'd observed, frustrated, and labored over all this time in Cyrodiil?

But once again the fragility of the situation made me put on a facade. I didn't want to voice any disagreement now.

We would go to Bravil, but I had a lot of thinking to do. At least the journey could provide time for that.


	51. Crucial ally

Sun's Height 16

(Champion of Cyrodiil): Arbor Watch, Chorrol

* * *

I would be trapped in this hellish place forever. Why? Because I was a hero. It crushed me to think that way, and I hated the basic mechanics of the world. My actions would once again be a product of courage, and punished by logical consequence. I brought my hand to the fiery orb slowly at first, and already I could feel my hand warm up. For the first time in years, I felt an urge to burst into tears. This was true heroism and I hated every bit of it. I hated that such a concept was possible. I'd just have to do it quickly, but I hated to...

Then there was a voice...a woman's voice...new colors...gray...gray brick. Where was I? Had I fallen, but somehow didn't reach the pit? What was I feeling around me? Was I wounded? How could they have taken me back? There weren't even any healers.

"Champion!" The female voice called. Slowly reality began piecing itself together. Disorientation found coordination. An idea of were I really was began to form in my head.

For a second I was excited. I was safe. I was a Champion. But something was missing. There was something that was supposed to dampen the mood.

I blinked a few times and noticed something. People in black. Black robes.

The Dark Brotherhood. Now the vacuum of pain was filled. I remembered the tragic epiphany. If I was happy, I was an exploiter. I remembered the burden my courage gave me, I remembered the horrible mechanics of the universe, I remembered how logic put an impenetrable barrier infront of hope for the good people. I remembered the temptation I always had to fight against. I remembered the temptation to give in to cowardess always creeping up on me.

"Champion!" She said, now shaking my shoulders. I was still somewhat trying to sift dream from reality while she spoke, but had lost some interest remembering the kind of place reality was. "Champion! We need your assistance" Her presence felt so unwelcome. I wanted to sleep until the world was fixed. I wanted to remain in the comfort of the covers. This was the one place I felt at peace.

"Why? What? How?" These were the only things I could think to ask.

"The Speaker you first met with, Lucien Lachance, has betrayed the Dark Brotherhood. He has ordered his personal assassin to kill us off, one by one. We five, including you, must put a stop to him if the Dark Brotherhood is to survive." She said in a melancholy voice.

I rubbed my eyes, still trying to put some pieces together but listening none the less "How are we going to do that?"

"We will go to Fort Farragut, confront Lachance, and punish him for his treachery!" She said, the anger encroaching on her voice, harshening her tone. Then, in a soothing manner again "You will come with us. We are sure your assistance will be invaluable."


	52. Destruction in the Black Hand

A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the start of the story. Keep in mind, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with the author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 17

(Mathieu Bellamont): Fort Farragut

* * *

My legs were beginning to ache from all the walking. Going upwards, like now, was particularly painful, but with the mission ahead, I practically embraced the pain. It was another enemy I was defeating, another way to make my name feared. I was just glad to be back on the battlefield. 

My dead drop plan had worked. Now I no longer needed to worry about whether or not I'd made a mistake somewhere in that plan. Now I could openly talk of my blood-lust Lachance. The success of such a quick and basic plan seemed almost comical.

It was Arquen who was walking ahead of us, and just seeing her black robes resurrected my desires to spill blood. They felt insatiable again, like their deaths weren't coming soon enough, like the rest of the Black Hand deserved wounds deeper than I could ever inflict. But I had to keep focus. I had to keep myself in an in-character mentality, and then soon enough I could let go of that mentality forever. I knew that mentality had eaten away at my mind over the years, often giving me unnecessary guilt and faulty memories, but soon it would have served its purpose.

The Champion of Cyrodiil himself was walking by my side. Just another reminder of the facade these people put infront of their amorality. He had been on my mind for quite some time as we journeyed. I was almost starting to wonder if I was truly alone in the world of decent people. When even the Champion himself was consorting with evil people, was I the only remaining defier of greed and temptation in this world? The only person the Nine, if they existed, were watching and rooting for? Their only agent in this vast world of evil, living with a self-imposed burden that had stressed my life 24/7? Or was I a defier even to them in this world of evil?

But even if that was the crushing truth, so be it. I was lonely already, and my will needed to remain iron. I needed to pride myself in the fanaticism they would no doubt see in me when I finally revealed the truth in the passionate last moment.

We were somewhat close to the fort when it came into view. With the over-ground in total ruins, it would be the underground that would the site of an epic battle. The ancient archway into the fort gaped at us like a giant demonic mouth. The whole place seemed distorted and devastated almost beyond recognition. The sight seemed just as ugly as the rest of that which was relevant to Dark Brotherhood.

We stopped in front of the ruin. Arquen began, turning to speak to us. I hoped if she had a plan, it wouldn't take too long to coordinate.

"Fellow members of the Black Hand, we shall proceed--"

My Speaker interrupted her "Please, Speaker Arquen, I have visited this sanctuary in times passed. I believe it is I who should formulate an offensive plan." I did my best to listen intently because I knew I needed to, but they seemed miles away right now. I felt no real sense of connection to them.

"You're right. The Night Mother has blessed us with you, dear Speaker. Please say your thoughts." Arquen replied. They didn't show that kind of agreeability to the rest of the world. They were all talking through masks.

"Fort Farragut has two entrances. The first is concealed inside a hollowed tree: it is for Lachance's welcomed visitors. The second is visible in the ruins, but is guarded by the product of years of necromancy.

Though using the secret entrance may seem optimum, descending the ladder it contains would require us to descend into the sanctuary one by one, and leave us in a vulnerable position as we climbed. The results would be pure disaster if he were to be awoken.

All my visits have been...administrative, so I do not know what you should expect to find in the second entrance. However, it would allow us to enter in a larger group, and be sure not to leave us vulnerable once we braved its dangers.

For this reason, we should split our group. Alor, Arquen, and Antigonus should infiltrate through the main entrance, while my Silencer uses the secret entrance as I await atop it. If Lachance attempts to climb his way out of danger, I will be there to kill him."

I didn't care to give any input. I just wanted to get on with the killing, because the energy in me was like nothing I'd ever felt before. That, and I had spoken no words to Dark Brotherhood which felt natural since I'd killed Marie. All I could feel was trapped rage, banging its fists to get out.

Instead, it was the Dunmeri Silencer who spoke "Speaker, if I may have a word: won't our numbers only be to our advantage if those using the guarded entrance arrive at the same time as your Silencer?"

"Why yes," He said, then looked down in thought for a moment. "Before entering Lachance's quarters you will come across a gate. Do not pull the lever to open it. My Silencer will give you time to make it to this destination. If you see Lachance waking, open the gate and rush in. If not, there will be no need. Arquen, I believe you should command Antigonus and Alor."

(**Fights-up-close**): The Flooded Mine

* * *

The shabby, weathered door in front of the Flooded Mine was now all that stood between me and enemy territory after a day of nothing but preparation. It wasn't that Shaleez sounded like a particularly intimidating target: I just would prefer to do this at night and saw it as an efficent way to spend the day. I didn't see any reason to expect her sleep cycle was anything other than typical, either. 

With all the intelligently chosen equipment at my side, I felt proud and powerful. I still had my enchanted dagger in a sheath on my right, but I'd decided to purchase a cheap short sword incase this assignment would involve any actual combat. In addition, I was keeping a healing potion with me. On top of all that, I was clad in my Dark Brotherhood armor. Taking all that into account, I felt like an awesome assassin for this assignment. I was eager to see this play out.

I knew from my use of my detect life spell she wouldn't be right at the door.

I opened the door. Its rusty hinges squeaked as the long deserted mine was slowly revealed. The fact that it was flooded was immediately evident. I gauged only a few paces down the sloping tunnel would leave me totally submerged.

This was a very clever place for an Argonian to hide-out, so it was certainly fitting that she would meet death at the hands of one of her fellows. I hated her for killing what few Dunmer had defiantly decided to co-exist peacefully with us, especially when there were so many who, according to my book, didn't.

I pushed magicka into my eyes to see through the darkness. Now it was time for precision, cleverness, victory, and justice.

As I began walking into the water, taking in its murky scent, the thrill began to build. The sensation wobbled in the threshold between pleasure and pain. While the huntress, **Clear-night-sky**, certainly wouldn't be my hardest target, she wouldn't be my easiest target either.

First I felt the cold water chill my body. Then I was submerged up to my ears, all sound becoming the water's stagnant hum. Then I submerged my eyes, and I was completely in the other realm.

The water wasn't very clear, but in a couple of strokes I could make out of the shape of a narrow, irregular tunnel to my left.

I propelled myself in its direction and began to swim down the narrow tunnel. The rocky nature of Cyrodiillic terrain sure made for some interesting stone formations. Its edges seemed to take a shape like a thick, oozing liquid frozen in time. There was little symmetry in this weird little Cyrodiillic phenomenon. As I stretched my arms with each stroke, they just barely missed the walls.

Soon I came to a T in the mine. I decided to head right.

The tunnel began to widen.

There was a bizarre rocky protrusion in the center of this wider "room" almost like an hour glass. There seemed to be no end to the wonders of what nature could do in places like Cyrodiil. The ground everything in this province grew on seemed to have a life of its own.

As I propelled myself further I noticed the floor of the cavern was beginning to slope upwards. It looked like I would be arriving at a dry area of the cave again soon.

I was aware I made some degree of noise as my head emerged from the water. And as I emerged I noticed there was someone, no doubt my target, curled up tightly in a bedroll on the cavern floor. She seemed to be stirring, but I couldn't tell if it was the product of a dream, or if my presence had awoken her.

I tried to gently raise my torso from the water, but that too made noise. The splash-like sound seemed as loud as thunder to an assassin attempting to be stealthy.

Then I saw the spined huntress whip her head towards me. Her squinting eyes, struggling against the forces of fatigue, looked directly at me. I went numb as the suspense came upon me. I could see she had a sword laying by the side of her bed. This could get ugly. Could she see me, or was this just a false alarm? I tensed, silently praying to Sithis I wouldn't be noticed.

She sat up.

I stood frozen. It took a few seconds for it to register with her that she was looking at an intruder, but when it did, her eyes popped wide open

Stuck in a world between air and water, my charge started out annoyingly slow. Luckily Shaleez spent a couple of seconds glancing around for her weapon, which I already had my eye on.

When she finally spotted it, I was already diving to the ground to reach it in order to keep it away from her. I slid against the sandy and rocky cavern floor, my armor preventing any irritation.

We both grasped the handle, my hand over her's.

As she pulled the weapon towards herself with slightly superior strength, I went with the first way I could think to inflict pain, however ungraceful it seemed. I tried to press my fingers into her hand in an awkward animalistic fury, affronted by the fact that she was able to put up any sort of fight. It did next to nothing, however. The Dark Brotherhood armor wasn't like the Shadowscale armor: the finger-tips were pretty blunt.

It was an odd scenario, so I had to resort to some odd tactics. With what little of my body could be moved without letting go of the sword, I still needed to inflict pain with the time I'd been given. I moved my free hand, straining seldomly used muscles, to kick up some of the dirt on the cave floor towards her eyes.

It caused her to grunt and close them briefly, but didn't loosen her grip. Still, I felt it bought me time as I struggled to get my hand around my own short-sword.

When I finally pulled my sword out of its sheath with a small feeling of accomplishment, I released my grip on **Clear-night-sky's** weapon and sprung back, holding my short sword infront of me. She sprung to her feet as well, but the irritation in her eyes was still evident by the way she was blinking.

With the sword in hand and armor on my body, I could feel some degree of security, but now stealth was out of the question. Now it was time for a simple duel.

My sword made a sharp "swoosh" as the thin metal cut through the air, only to hear a clang as **Clear-night-sky** successfully blocked, whimpering at the close call.

There was an odd, prickly sensation in my hands from the impact. I knew if she hadn't blocked, that hit would have done the job.

She attempted a stab, but I caught her sword on its side and deferred it, inadvertently gasping. I back pedaled briefly and took a pointless swing: the only result was a deep swooshing noise. The sword was well out of range.

The clanging of steel, the use of all sorts of strength, the grunts of passion. It had a beauty in its own right, but I preferred to avoid combat, and was nervous as I fought.

She stepped forward. We both attempted a swing at the same time.

This time when our swords clashed they became locked together.

I could almost feel the impending slice that would come after one of the swords was liberated from the X they'd formed. I needed to ensure the first sword liberated was mine.

I didn't know exactly how long we had stood locked together. Time is hard to gauge in the heat of a battle. None the less, an idea came to me.

As we stared into each other's eyes, I moved one of my feet behind one of her's, then pulled it back forcibly. The one way I outmatched her: wit. My victory.

She fell onto her back, a symbol of what was to come: her death.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Fort Farragut

* * *

"Now should be the time, Mathieu." The Speaker said. It felt like I'd waited ages already. 

I began walking forward. My heart was pounding. It felt great to have a weapon in my hand. It was feeling of power accompanied by the knowledge I could finally release all the destructive energy inside me.

I was inside the hollowed trunk now, looking down at the hatchway. This day had been the product of endless dedication, intentional obsession, spurts of courage, and years upon years of waiting, and now it was finally here. It was a new stage in my life. I had lived too long in fear, denial, and needless guilt. Finally Lucien would regret forsaking his duty as a father to embrace his greed. Finally the Dark Brotherhood would regret the discipline that allowed me to restrain myself for so long.

I wrapped my hand around the cold metal handle and slowly, gently pulled it from the ladder entrance. It made only the slightest sound. I was here to prove something not only to the Dark Brotherhood, but to prove something to myself: the potential of dedication.

I couldn't help but quiver with all the energy, but I steadied my hand for brief second as I gently rested the hatch against the wood.

Below I could see a ladder dangling to the floor of Lachance's sanctuary. From here, I knew I could make quite a fall, literally and figuratively.

I carefully placed my arms and legs on the wobbly wooden rungs of the ladder. They move forwards with the force I'd inadvertently put on them. I clung to the rungs tightly and shook them in a moment of irrational fury, the anger easily spilling out at the slightest provocation like water in a filled glass. But I stopped myself quickly. It would make noise.

Countless questions were going through my head as I lowered myself wrung by wrung. It almost seemed too good to be true. _Can I really sneak up on him? Will the Black Hand ever find out what I did? Will they really summon the Night Mother? _But no, I needed to get over baseless self-doubt if I was ever to fulfill my dream. This was my opportunity to make myself more than another victim.

I saw my enemy curled up in undeserved comfort, it was the ugliest sight I could think of. I felt my obsession override any pessimism. The meticulous paranoia that had allowed me to make it this far seeped away too because I saw it was no longer needed. I could once again feel the deep anger. Killing him in his sleep wouldn't be enough: He'd earned far worse his turn to evil. I'd make sure he woke up, but not before it was too late to save himself.

Now I was lower: closer to my oblivious target. That meant less and less to fear. Lucien had already laid down a carpet to welcome me. I could feel sweat building in my under-arms. An endless store of energy was bubbling within me. I would put it all towards destruction. With my dagger, I wanted to turn Lachance into something barely recognizable as human.

My feet made graceful contact with the carpeted floor. _Yes, so close._ The passion and energy was like nothing I ever felt before. All else was put aside as I crept towards my enemy. His comfort was vile, his assurance of his own safety was smug. It was the dawn of justice. A sunrise searing through the pompous, dogmatic, pseudo-righteous lies of pacifists and burning the evil, greedy, sadistic enemy.

I continued to creep. Soon the great emotional release would come, and injustice would be corrected as Lucien was pulled down to the state a soul like his deserved in the scape of justice. A battle between good and evil like in all the tales. I was a grizzled veteran of that war, and now victory finally seemed in sight.

Then, I was right by his bed side. I tried not to breath at first, planning on how to wake him up. I looked over to my left, through the demonic looking gothic gate, and could see Arquen. She was mouthing something to me. "Do it." as best as I could guess. As the discomfort built up from my lack of breathing, an idea came to me.

Soon we'd be dancing the dance of combat, the steps imbued with meaning, inspired by the song of death.

His hand was on his side as he slept. I brought my knife towards the completely bare flesh, the anticipation building. After all this planning, this was a moment of actually seeing my plans make it into the real world.

With the sharp edge of my blade I gently caressed his hand.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Lucien, signaling his awakening. The blood followed shortly. He whipped around and my eyes met with his. They widened immensely. He realized he was being attacked, definitely, but maybe something more as well.

I could hear the gate opening. Bizarre stimulus seemed to be coming at me from every angle knowing I'd, for the first time, wounded the man who'd started this all. It was a goal I'd worked towards for years. I felt more lucid than ever. Even in this vast world of evil, a, or perhaps _the_ world's angel of pain could shine.

I could hear the gates opening. Lucien's fear converted to anger. He bared his teeth before nearly hitting me with a hearty punch from his wounded hand. I purposely fell back before the impact, then rolled out of the way.

Lucien immediately sprung to his feet, as did I. Lucien instantly ripped off a piece of his sheet and savagely slapped it onto his wound as a makeshift bandage.

He was bare-fisted. I had a dagger. I already had the advantage, but it could get even better. My Black Hand allies were coming. I knew we could do better in a pack, so I slowly backed up, each passing second making me a smaller and smaller factor in the equation of my Lucien's death. We stared at each other, each expecting aggression from the other, locked in an arbitrary battle

Then, when the gate was sufficiently raised, I could hear Arquen's voice. "Die, betrayer!" She growled, averting Lucien's glance briefly.

I lunged forwards to stab him in the shoulder, releasing only one more drop of what I had in me. Yet as he back pedaled at the sight of the Black Hand, the stab became a nick on his upper-arm.

His back-pedaling quickly twisted its way into a run, as he vigorously pushed his legs in a brief sprint.

Oddly, he passed the ladder, unlike we'd expected. I noticed he was heading to the farther pillar in this bedroom. He disappeared into the shadow it cast, and I was eager to follow. The bubbling energy of hatred was imbued in every muscles, pushing to get out. I was pushing my spirit to its limits, but even in this showdown, it only felt barely adequate to give Lucien what he deserved.

With my knife at bare, ready to swing it and further maim my enemy, I made my way around the pillar. But I didn't see Lucien cornered by the Black Hand, being torn to shreds.

He was...gone.

In the shadows? I tried to poke through the shadows with my knife. At first I stabbed near the pillar. There was nothing except air. I moved closer to the wall, away from the pillar, and stabbed and sliced into the shadow. Yet still, nothing but air taunting and baffling me.

It was as if he'd just disappeared, as if he was no longer part of time and space. I was baffled. I was so close to finally getting revenge on the man who'd cast a shadow of hatred over my life. I had been grizzled, worked, and hardened for this moment, and he was just...gone. I was in awe.

The destructive energy was there again, but this time it was trapped, futile, making me feel pathetic. It fed on itself: I got frustrated at the undeniability justification of my own frustration. There was no way around it. I was cheated by the Nine.

"Where did he go?" Arquen yelled in a mix of panic and fury. "He has ordered four of our members to be killed! He ordered the Listener himself to be killed! He _must_ pay for his treachery!"

"He couldn't have gone far!" The Dunmeri Silencer stated trying to deny the truth that floated through the air: that our efforts had been for naught."Let's keep looking!"

Words didn't flow among my family, or in my state of rage, but I pushed them out. "He went into a shadow and just disappeared." I said.

There was a short silence while my fury thrashed around helplessly. The bricks and fire seemed to look at me with the same amoral indifference I'd seen in the Dark Brotherhood. The whole world seemed ugly now.

"He needs this sanctuary. He's a wanted criminal." Arquen finally said.

A new piece of logic, a sign of hope.

"Are you suggesting something?" The Dunmeri Silencer asked eagerly.

"I'm suggesting we stay here...if he ever left, he'll be back." Arquen said.


	53. Vindication

A/N: There was originally supposed to be a chapter between this one and the last one. Somehow, and have no idea how, it got deleted very late in its stages of development. I didn't even notice it happened until I was uploading these chapters. Anyway, despite how ridiculously unlikely that was to occur in the first place, the chapter that was deleted wasn't terribly important: instead of rewriting I've simply added a bit more to this one, making some allusions to what happened in the lost chapter.

Also, note this chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the last chapter of this story. Revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 18, 4E1

(**Surveys-from-above**): Bravil

* * *

Once again a prick of itchiness popped up on my arm. I tried to scratch as quickly as possible, knowing I would only need to take my eyes off the alleys a few seconds to miss her. For some reason, I couldn't stop itching right when I needed focus the most. 

When I was done, I glanced over at Ungolim again. My eyes had been darting between alleys for what seemed like hours now, but there had been no sign of **Fights-up-close**. I just hoped I could catch her in a fixed position when she did come into my line of fire.

Our current plan was to hit her with a paralyzing blow dart, a dart coated in a special substance of the Inner Swamps significantly more effective than any alchemical product of similar purpose. What made me so uneasy about this situation was the precision my shot would require considering I was used to using a crossbow. If she was wearing armor, a dart like this wouldn't penetrate it. That would leave only her face and neck vulnerable. And even so, I didn't want to shoot her eye out of commission or anything in the process.

I had my crossbow by my side though, "**Just incase**."

This whole conflict was draining, not exhilarating like fighting our real enemies. Thankfully, it didn't look like I'd have much to worry about if I could get a good shot with the blow dart. I didn't want to think about all the awkward situations that would arise otherwise. I didn't know how I'd be expected to deal with them.

With the dart blower still near my mouth, I turned my head to the street adjacent the statue. Nothing.

My head itched now. I'd probably peel off my scales by the time this was over.

I looked towards the street second from the statue.

This time, I noticed something.

It was some black and red scurrying through the light, hunched over, in the mistaken state of mind that it was being stealthy. **Fights-up-close**. My opportunity would be over in a second. From my angle, I wouldn't see her when she made her way into the next alley.

Panicking slightly from what the situation demanded of me, I blew hard into the tube. I watched the arrow's trajectory and prayed I'd gauged it right. The arrow landed silently, and now **Fights-up-close** was out of view. That was all.

I didn't know if I'd tagged her, yet I knew what I needed to do next.

I viciously took out another dart, then forcibly jabbed it into the liquid coating that was the "paralysis poison", then loaded it into the dart launcher.

The couple of seconds it took felt an eternity in the tension of the moment. I knew a lot could happen in those two seconds.

(**Fights-up-close**): Bravil

* * *

All these trials of sneaking through the city streets in my Dark Brotherhood armor would soon come to an end. Through all the tension, close calls, and adrenaline pumping, I had proven myself. 

I'd scouted out this area before hand, during the day, and I knew that no windows or doors faced the Lady Luck Statue: ironically, it seemed like the getting closer to the target put me in less and less danger of getting caught. Soon I would finally be finished with this contract. It had been first contract I'd followed through with confidence in too long.

I crept along the soft earth, simultaneously keeping magicka in my eyes. I was heading into the next and final shadowy alley-way in the massive assassin's playground this city became at night fall.

When I made it into the final shadowy alley-way, I could see the statue very clearly. The target was at the foot of the statue as I expected, but he was doing something surprising.

His bow was at bare, with an arrow already inserted, and he was glancing at the alleys to the left. I had no idea what might have caught his interest there.

Then he looked towards the alley I was in. Our eyes met. But I was in the shadows; was he still oblivious to me?

Two of my instincts stalemated themselves: One was to stay still as to not make my presence more obvious. The other was to run at him assuming I'd already been spotted.

Then, he began aiming his bow forward. He could see me in these shadows. He must have been using the night-eye spell too. But why was he so on guard?

The next thing I knew, the metal tip of an arrow head was whooshing towards me.

I could feel its wind and hear its low whoosh as I dodged.

For a second, I wondered if I'd met my doom, as absurd as it seemed. But no, the arrow had just done a great job of making its point.

The fact that Ungolim was prepared was so unexpected it seemed to defy logic, like the fabrics of reality were being ripped apart by some sinister force behind them with the intention of smothering me. Why was he alerted? By whom? It seemed overwhelming. Briefly I felt faint, but then I ripped into combat mode and charged forward with animalistic determination filling my head, all outside thought and emotions draining from me.

As he loaded another arrow I pushed my legs as hard as I could against the ground.

With the arrow loaded, he raised the bow towards me as I continued to run at him. I was getting closer. I wasn't sure which would come first: contact with him, or his arrow. A lot to gain, but everything to lose.

Then I was staring at the tip of Ungolim's arrow. It was all he needed to put all my efforts to an abrupt and painful end. This was my defeat. This was my death. I was too close to dodge. There was a horrible sinking feel as I realized my fate. I began thinking at amazing speeds:

Ungolim started to take a step back, prolonging it all a fraction of a second.

Then a miracle happened. Suddenly, with a look of fear in his eyes, his upper body was thrown forward.

Being made a fool of by unknown forces, he accidently released the string of the bow in mid fall, causing the arrow to fire pathetically into the ground as he himself fell on his face.

Certain death was deferred in manner equally unexpected by both of us, but that didn't change my course of action. I took the turn of fortune to run the last few steps as Ungolim did his best to prop himself up and recover from the logic defying moment. But it was too late for him to ensure his own survival. In the flurry of chaos, I still came out on top.

As he was almost standing again, I elbowed the back of his neck, knocking him back unto his face. Then I delivered a quick stab in his back with fury built up from the seconds of seeming helplessness, pouring every bit of my soul into the retribution. He delivered a half hearted cry of pain as he collapsed.

Then I noticed something unusual that I couldn't yet quite process. Rapid pattering, growing in volume, mellowed somehow.

Then, the ground beneath my feet vanished. There was a brief moment as fear exploded within me, leaving its own little void. I lost my concentration, causing the night-eye effect to disappeared. The unpleasant scare ended with a collision between the side of my face and the ground. The breath was knocked out of me, I could hear a familiar voice.

"No," the deep voice said quietly, quivering. I squirmed to get a vantage on what was happening, while I could feel a puddle of pain emerging on the spot of my impact. Someone in black robes was crouched over the body of Ungolim looking at his wound.

The robed figure took in an unnatural breath, uneven and gravely. He looked up towards the sky, fell to his knees, and clenched his fists "NO!" he shouted as if the passion was too great for his vocal cords to express, an unnatural rage.

Then, he turned to me, and jabbed his finger at me from afar. "I thought I could get here in time!" He shouted with fiery rage "Thought I could stop you!"

It was Mr. Lachance.

He propped himself up and began walking toward me in a very uninhibited manner. His robes were torn and stained, and his eyes blood-shot. His entire image seemed corroded by something that frightened me to see in him. His merciless boldness and unusual disregard for my comfort made me back pedal intuitively "By Sithis! What have you done!? You have betrayed me! You have betrayed the Dark Brotherhood Why!?"

I startled myself as my back made contact with the wooden exterior of a house. I noticed I was shaking now. His yelling scared me...and hurt me. I could feel an aching lump in my throat. I felt weak. It was just like being admonished as a child, but now I could sense my physical form was in danger: his dagger was at bare, and already I could almost feel the delicate pain it could cause with one precise slice. All I could do was press myself harder against the wall and clench my teeth as I awaited the results of his soulless and unexplainable fury.

Then, Lucien's image was rapidly absorbed with the rest of the world. I thought I could see the outline of his body, but it might have only been due to my knowledge of his presence. He had mastered the Shadow ability far better than he had ever taught us to.

The point of his dagger was still visible, floating in mid-air, and slowly coming towards my sensitive, delicate throat.

_Why, after I'd finally pledged my loyalty, was I accused of treachery?_ "I am here, to end your miserable life," He whispered ominously. It wasn't the Lachance I knew. Something had...consumed him. _Why did he mourn the loss of Ungolim? Why was Ungolim alerted? _"to..." _Why would he call me a traitor for nearly getting killed completing this contract?_

Then, the floating metal point sank. The deep voice spoke again, now mellowed "But...but I can see the confusion in your eyes. You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" As if urging me to say yes.

Suddenly, free of danger, some entirely different part of me took over.

"NO!" I shouted. My voice cracked, eroded by the presence of oncoming tears, "What are you talking about!?" With the threat gone, I found an amazing store of frustration at the situation I didn't even realize I had until I opened my mouth. The words were so loud and harsh they seemed like sand-paper on my throat. By now we'd probably woken up all of Bravil, but at this point that wasn't much on my mind.

Somehow, Mr. Lachance knew me better than I wanted to admit. Sometimes, this had made me uncomfortable and frustrated. But it saved my life this time. He had spared my life, and I shouldn't throw any more anger him. But what was this about? I couldn't make anything out of all I'd just seen and heard

Lucien's dagger was now at his side. He was still invisible, but I was the scarier one now. "Your first dead drop contract, you carried that out, eliminated the Draconis family as order. Then," Lucien paused briefly "betrayal" Then, his emphasis grew with each word "Your dead drops went unvisited, your targets ignored. Instead you have been systematically killing off members of the Black Hand!"

I could feel the words hit me. My face tingled uncomfortably. Now it just felt like a nightmare I wanted to wake up from. I could hardly believe the power of this moment.

How could that have happened? I had been fulfilling this dead drop ever since the Draconis contract.

Lucien seemed to sense my confusion once again. "Alval Uvani, Havilstien Hoar-blood, Shaleez: Speakers and Silencers all! And Ungolim, the Listener himself!" He said it almost mournfully, but the wound was much deeper to me. All those names I'd read on the contract, sometimes mispronounced slightly in my memory, were being repeated to me. I could feel my soul sinking while my body was quivering violently. I was blinking rapidly. I tried to hold back tears, but the crushing power of the moment was beyond anything I'd ever faced. I was staring into the horizon of a new day, but it didn't feel much like sunrise.

The world was cruel again. Overbearing, ugly, tiresome: logic was an opposing force. Those targets who I had felt so morally confident to kill were actually my employers.

"The surviving members of the Black Hand _know_ you're innocent! They _know _you were just following orders! They think _I_ am the traitor!" Now, another emotion was added to the confused and vile concoction of feelings I just wanted to be rid of. It was pity. But pity for a soul I know wondered if truly deserved it. Worse, I knew I would have the burden to figure out how to deal with this horrible mix of feelings.

And who had I been truly pledged my loyalty to after reading the false dead drop:

The Dark Brotherhood, or its enemies?

I was so lost in thought, I didn't realize I'd been silent.

"Don't you see?" Lachance continued "The traitor somehow switched your orders and has been sending you to the wrong dead drops." Then, in a gravely whisper said "You, and I, have been deceived."

The traitor? But that meant M'raaj-Dar wasn't the traitor! That meant no one in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary was.

It seemed like the whole world shifted. My perception of it had been totally false. I would have given anything to have the mentality that I'd carried out this contract with back, but it was gone. The words of the dead drop contract, talk of justice and abundance of explanation, were the words of an enemy.

Maybe I could no longer feel noble in this uniform. Maybe I could no longer see the beauty in any of Sithis' creations.

Mr. Lachance spoke again. "We must find out who is behind this betrayal" he declared "But we haven't much time. I am hunted day and night by the Black Hand! They want me dead." The words made me feel a stab of something...guilt, I supposed. Something I wanted to tare out from inside of me. I was filled with all sorts of complex emotions. "Here is what you must do. Go now to your next dead drop location, lie in wait, and confront whomever drops off the false dead drop. Once the true traitors identity has been uncovered, speak with me. I will be in hiding. Fort Farragut is currently under watch by the Black Hand." There was a pause in the disembodied voice "I'll wait for you at Applewatch, the farm where you killed the old Draconis woman. It should be empty...and safe. Now go, and may Sithis' help us all!"

I could hear Lachance walking away. I was still against the shadow covered wall, looking at the dead body that changed my world. I only just noticed my hand was now gently covering my mouth.

The coarseness of life was coming back. Now I had real tests, real burdens, real problems again. It wasn't just about mourning and guilt anymore. The future was no longer something to look forward to. I couldn't be sure of progress. I couldn't be sure I was on the right side.

I looked up at the sky. The stars starred at me through the clear night. Now I saw my confidence and assurance were undue. I was duped by higher forces. I felt like just an insect now.

When I slowly let my head droop back to the ground, I noticed something on one of the roofs. A protrusion, an irregularity for sure. But before I could muster up a night eye spell it quickly disappeared, as if it had sunk back into the roof itself.

Maybe it was an agent of whatever higher powers I, and Mr. Lachance, had become the play things of, I thought in a moment of fear. And maybe my inability to specifically categorize it just proved my point.

As the questions came, the ideas my mind was standing on vanished, and a panic set it. It ate away at any feeling of security or solidity in the world. What else was I wrong about?

_Should I listen to Lachance?_ _I had carried out contracts only because I had no idea what I was truly doing, but does that mean I should betray him now?_ _What about the traitor? _

Questions. This had happened before. The questions were coming back, I realized with a dull anguish. I was back in the world where life was coarse, where every day was a duty, and now it felt like I'd never left.

(**Surveys-from-above**): Bravil

* * *

Lachance was no longer in sight, but now it was like I was seeing him as a totally different person. Now I felt guilty for my previous thoughts. No longer did I see him as a smug and deceitful monster. Maybe not a father again yet, but he clearly hadn't turned on us. 

The Shadowscale herself now seemed to be slumped against the wall of the building, her hands in her face. I didn't know if she was crying, exhausted, or meditating on all that had transpired, but I knew that realization must have been a lot harder for her to take in than me.

At first I considered calling out to her, breaking the silence in honor of the bitter-sweet breakthrough, but then I remember **Learns-fast** said I was supposed to stay hidden until I'd begun the capture proceedure, so I assumed that held true for any situation.

Thinking of the new dawn that lay ahead of me with this invigorating new discovery, I began to climb down the grapple hook I'd used to come up to this roof top. There was no need to capture her anymore. Even in her position, it looked like she would be working for our side again. I could feel the old times coming back. The flow of my mind was returning to its older, comfortable state.

My failure to protect Ungolim felt like quite a blow at first, but the vindication of Mr. Lachance made it feel worth it. I would be honored to be the liaison of such liberating news.

My feet finally touched the ground. So much to do, so much to tell, so much to think about. There was a new hope cast on the future, because it would be like the past. There was still a lot we didn't know, but it seemed everything was set to turn out alright with the Dark Brotherhood in the end, and soon those gaps in our understanding would be filled enough to bridge everyone back together.

Though I kept a low profile as a snuck back to the city gates, I was dancing with excitement in my head.

(**Learns-fast**): Stables outside Bravil

* * *

I looked towards a distant Aylied ruin as I leaned against the fence of the stables. I had decided to stay clear of any action, and let Tienaava guard the gates. We'd already dealt with the guard there. 

It wasn't the waiting that irritated me, it was the lack of a dead line. I didn't know how to take this delay, and I didn't know what was happening inside the city walls. All I could do was wait instead of assign my enthusiasm to a more useful task. As usual, my passion against Lachance was reawoken when it would be least useful: when I couldn't do anything about it. I wanted to be part of the final fight. My hatred was worse now than before, seeing how the Black Horse Courier and, by extension, Lady Leyawiin, had reacted to Captain Draconis' death. At this rate, they'd be sending troops to Helstrom by the time the officer in the Leyawiin guard was killed. Now, when I was being denied the privilege of making sure Lachance was properly punished, I was forced to work with the fetcher Ungolim. He'd made his own protection so inefficent for us with all the information he witheld from us "outsiders". The only bright side to this was that with Lachance, my partner in the Shadowscale pact, dead, I head a hope of getting **Fights-up-close** and **Cleaver **back into my service, but I was pursuing that more out of a sense of duty than desire.

I couldn't help but worry over just about every detail relevant to Lachance's arrest: I was worried they might make some mistake that would let him escape. I was worried the Black Hand wouldn't go harsh enough on him. What if they saw him as their "psychotic brother"? I never really understood the maniacs who ran this cult, but even considering that as a possibility made my boil. He needed to pay for all those sleepless nights.

I wanted nothing more than to see some action again. I had spent all these days like a soldier, every piece of land I set foot on part of the battlefield, every move I made a manifestation of strategy to bring me closer to my enemy's defeat, and now it was all in the hands of a bunch of basement crawling thugs.

Then I noticed the sound of footsteps pattering against the soft, barely tamed pathway from the city.

I turned to see **Surveys-from-above.** Yes! The wait was over! Now, maybe in some way, I could get back into the battle.

As he got close, he whispered sharply, tapping on the threshold of normal volume. "Lachance** isn't the traitor!" Surveys-from-above **gradually slowing to a halt up next to me. At first, I barely understood what he said because it was so unexpected."Mr. Lachance** isn't the traitor!" **He said, throwing his hands around in nearly useless gestures** "He came out of one of the alleys! He tried to stop Fights-up-close from killing Ungolim! Ungolim's dead, but he really tried to stop her! He said the real traitor had switched one of his dead drop notes! He sent her to the next dead drop location so they could find the real traitor, while he waited for her in Applewatch!"**

**"What!?" **I hissed back, appalled by the words "**He was here!? He tried to **_**save**_** the Listener**!? **She killed the Ungolim!? She's still out there!?" **Anger was still bubbling inside me from all the memories, and now to have this hit my already unstable soul just made me explode. Now when I knew Lachance's punishment was so close, I was being told he wasn't the traitor!?

**"I tried, I swear." **He said "**And yeah, she's still alive."**

So I had heard right. I was being told my target all this time was somehow not a traitor. Reality was blocking my destructive impulses like never before, and that filled me with a great, undeniable, savage fury. Images of how silly all that had transpired, all that I'd glorified looked ran through my head, with myself looking the silliest of all. Again, it multiplied my fury. It took every bit of willpower not to let this devolve into a shouting match.

"**You mean to tell me the man who killed off the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary isn't a traitor?" **I whispered sharply. It was only the tip of the ice-berg of the vast stores of anger.

**"I...I don't know. The way he talked..."** **Surveys-from-above** stammered, his voice cracking slightly "**He said that she'd been...that he thought she'd been ignoring his real dead drops, that he came here to stop her. He didn't realize her dead drops had been switched until..." **I put my hand infront of his face in a gesture of silence so I could think. It felt as if life had slapped me in the face. We'd come this far, only to find out we had nothing. Lachance was never a traitor: I'd never get to finish what I'd started. I twitched as I thought. I was speechless.

I looked over towards the courier. He was enjoying the view of the Niben Bay, sitting in a grassy area where he could get a good view. This situation meant nothing to him. Even that annoyed me then and there.

I pushed the next words out of my mouth. "**Thank you, agent.**" I finally said, the worlds feeling horribly unnatural, damming up my fury, my only reality at the moment "**Go tell Cleaver to leave his post. I'll report the news to our courier.**"The worlds hardly even felt like mine.

I began walking through the grassy fields, moving my legs mechanically as I waged war against myself in my head. With the anger I felt, vindicating Lachance seemed unthinkable now. At first it seemed impossible to consider, but even with the blatant vileness of thought, I had to take it into the consideration. Was it all just a matter of willpower?

_You know you need to tell the truth about Lachance. This is just a contest between vengeful temptation and maturity._

_Is it, now? Lucien killed off the entire Cheydinhal sanctuary._

_But he knows the Dark Brotherhood better than you: whatever his reasons, he didn't consider himself a traitor for that._

_Why do you care? Let the fetcher die. They won't know the difference._

I frightened myself with that last thought. I had never thought like that before.

_If they think Lachance is the traitor, they'll lose a Speaker and overlook the real trouble-maker. Nothing good can happen to the Black Hand after that, and the strength of the Dark Brotherhood is the strength of the Argonian Royal Court. _But I didn't feel like I could put it all together. I didn't feel like I could make sense of it all. My thoughts were getting cut off. I was too filled with hatred, and now I was only feet away from the courier. The courier turned towards me, his mouth slightly opened, eager for a response. I remembered the last thought in my head: _the strength of the Dark Brotherhood is the strength of the Argonian Royal Court._

I had to look after the interests of the Dark Brotherhood.

Yet I shunned my conclusion, crossed over to the side of irrationality, and ignored logic for once so my words might leave my mouth gracefully.

"Lucien Lachance has relocated to the Applewatch farm to wait for his duped Silencer. Tell the Black Hand." I said to the courier.

There was only a second of relief to have the decision over with, even if I'd fallen.

Then I could feel the impact of my own words. My life had been shaken because I consciously avoided the smarter decision. I was weak.

I turned to walk away. Something inside me had changed. I knew I'd just witnessed decision in its purest form.

Then I was calculating and analyzing, thinking of whether I could step back and tell him the truth as regret nagged me, thinking of how I was wallowing in my own weakness. But I continued to shun the rational part of me, and with every step the thought that it wasn't too late to turn back became less and less true. My mind was adjusting to accommodate this new me.

With that, I felt I'd learned something about the very mechanics of my soul. Discovered a new person. I might be sacrificing my career to fulfill a momentary desire, even when the latter came out as so much less important. My soul had been tested and failed.

The courier was walking off to report the false news. I knew this incident would scar me, but right now, I was one of the weak. I didn't know what the future would be like in any way.

In the distance I could see the two Shadowscales talking. Maybe **Fights-up-close** had already slipped out of town. Either way, it didn't matter. She was no longer someone to be concerned about. Maybe nothing but my feelings here and now were something to be concerned about. That's certainly how I acted. Maybe this was the dawn of a new way of the most basics aspects of my being. I was in an altered state of consciousness, stuck with what was pure and undeniable irresponsibility at the deepest level possible.

Then, a comforting thought came to me:

Once she got to Anvil, and uncovered the true traitors identity, I realized_ I_ might be able to cushion the fall for the Dark Brotherhood. The real traitor could be eliminated, even after Lachance was, and I would get credit. The Dark Brotherhood would be preserved, and I would still have a job because I'd appear the saviour, not the sabateur.

I knew living with my disregard would leave scars in me that could never be healed by the outside world, but it would be something.

The Shadowscales stopped their conversation as I got close. Then, being purposely vague, said "**I've told the courier about** Lucien Lachance. Anvil**'s our next destination**."


	54. Fear

A/N: I'm still having trouble uploading some chapters. Not sure what that's all about, but I've had to rely on some weird methods to get these chapters here. I guess the support team at this site can't help me because I haven't heard back from them after they told me to e-mail them a file to test out. Anyway, there seems to have been some minor "damage" to some chapters in the process, but I'm pretty sure I fixed it all.

Sun's Height 19

(**Fights-up-close**): The Green Road

* * *

It still felt odd staying up through the night, but that wasn't the only thing that felt odd. I felt lost and fearful after the sense of security I had was ripped away by the meeting with Mr. Lachance. My situation and consciousness had been altered to a point where I didn't know how to approach them. I knew the way to my physical destination, but mentally I felt lost. As I rode North and the swampy climate of Bravil Sector faded, a link to old comforts and solidities, my feeling of insecurity was getting worse. 

I didn't desire sleep tonight. Beyond needing to get to Anvil quickly to catch the traitor, I knew I could never sleep tonight because here was so much rushing through my head. I didn't feel angry at the traitor or eager for my mission: the grayness of the situation had dulled any combative impulses, but none the less my mind was active. Still, it was an utterly depressing thought that I was riding towards my ordered location not even sure whose side I would take: I was just doing it because I knew Anvil would be the next hotspot. I knew that, if I were to do anything that mattered, it would be there. But I didn't know my goals, and seeing the forces the Dark Brotherhood was fighting and losing against, I wasn't even sure siding with the Dark Brotherhood would bring me safety.

As I rode down the dirt road, flanked by forests, I felt like a pawn in a world I never realized was so much bigger than me. I was doing just as ordered, but for people I wasn't sure I could trust.

And the fact that the traitor was still around was also very unsettling. How could he or she have survived the Purification? I'd been trying to replay all their deaths, but I didn't see any obvious mistake in my proceedure.

A more insidious idea gnawed at my mind though: the idea I couldn't be sure of anything. It caused me to ache endlessly. I didn't mind physical circumstances anymore. I just wanted mental security, but even that seemed to be nearly impossible. The idea that I really couldn't trust anything made depression well up in my chest to a point where I felt sick. I felt cold and lonely in the world when there was so much uncertainty. I twitched, I knew I was opening a wound again.

It was all too scary. It felt like I was battling with myself now, trying to dissect every idea in my head for some answers.

As I was riding I was hoping for some magical epiphany to mend my mind. That was what kept me going.

As the falling sensation got more intense, and my thirst for knowledge grew, it reminded me of the book by my side I'd been ignoring during my latest contract. For once, I broke from the cycle that was occurring in my mind, the one in which every conclusion was followed by a broader question.

And with that, I reached for the pouch that I'd stored the book in. I tensed as I held the book in my hand. For some reason, I was afraid of it. I was afraid of the truth. I clenched it tightly. The power of the tension seemed almost paralyzing, but, knowledge of the alternative state of fear, I opened it. I'd fought off my emotion and destructive thought.

I opened the book to the page I'd marked. I felt a surge of...something throughout my upper body, like my veins were about to explode. It caused me to jerk my head back because it was so intense.

I was once again staring at the dirt road and dense forest. Little had changed on the path.

Then I looked down again. I forced myself to look read the text.

As I did, I felt more lucid. I felt like I could think yet plant my feet firmly in reality at the same time. I'd taken control to confront the truth.

I read the text, continuing where I'd left off before I came upon the false dead drop:

_Because neither of these attacks were investigated by any Cyrodiillic presence in the area, there is little conclusive data._

_However, these attacks share odd coincidences. First, both occurred during Second Seed, in the same year. Next, both attacks seem to have been carried out to kidnap new-born hatchlings, while, oddly enough, seemingly more significant members of the tribe were ignored. Third, while both attacks resulted in death of one or more tribe members, both attacks were clearly carried out by a very small but coordinated effort. This is a rarity in Argonian tribal warfare._

_The exact date of the first attack was Second Seed 24, 3E414. The date of the second attack was Second Seed 27 3E414._

I felt my body go numb.

Second Seed 24, 3E414 was **Goes-in-heavy's** birthday.

Second Seed 27, 3E414, was mine.

I could feel something rising inside me as I realized exactly the extent of what these books had showed him and me, and exactly why he'd defected. I saw the depth of the problem and extent of his evidence. There was fear growing inside me. Fear of the true nature of the world. I thought how nice it would be to just abandon the book right now. To return, as best I could, to a life of normalcy and love, to forget everything. 

No. That would wrong. I wouldn't coware from the truth. I wouldn't consider it.

I looked out onto the shadowed land ahead again for a few seconds before courageously putting my eyes back down towards the book again, clenching it even tighter in the painful surge of tension.

_These mysterious Second Seed attacks are not entirely isolated incidents. There have been reports from explorers in the region that many tribes fear the **month-of-the-Shadow** (the month of Second Seed). Of course, this information was obtained from individuals, such as Brendan the Persistent (mentioned in his book "The Argonian People: Out of the North and into Understanding"), who traveled deep into the province._

_In fact, one particular_

(**Learns-fast**): Green road

* * *

_How will I explain this mistake to the Black Hand?_

I had spent hours trying to think of answers to my questions and my mind had gotten no where. My thoughts were stuck. But I had to come up with a solution for the mess my weakness had caused me. Getting credit for finding the traitor's identity by interrogating **Fights-up-close** wouldn't cushion the fall my reputation would take if I couldn't figure out a way to sugar-coat the truth of what I was doing and what I'd done.

_How will I explain to the Shadowscales why I need information from **Fights-up-close**?_

That decision to lie about Lachance may have left a wound deeper than anything I'd ever done before. I knew I'd never look at anything, including myself, the same again. The shame of the mistake was slowly encroaching on me. I had hated Lachance for ordering** Fights-up-close** to do the sort of things that practically bated Cyrodiil into an invasion, but humblizing and calm reason was starting to seep deeper and deeper into my thoughts. Now I hated myself for practically ensuring the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, especially since it looked like we'd need any ally inside Cyrodiil more than ever.

_What should I tell the Shadowscales is our reason for returning to Anvil?_

It was very late at night, but I knew that wasn't why I couldn't find a solution. With the desperation of the situation, my mind was _active_, but not progressing. All I was getting from all this thought was stress and a headache.

_How will I hide what I've done from the Shadowscales?_

There was plenty of time until we got to Anvil but my mental stagnancy had gone on for so long already that I was genuinely worried. I just couldn't tell when the necessary inspiration for decent answers to my inner-questions would strike. Worse, I didn't know how soon I'd need these answers. After all, if the Shadowscales started asking questions before we made it to Anvil...

If our conditioning did its job, I had nothing to worry about. Still, I wouldn't take that chance if I could avoid it. We'd already lost **Goes-in-heavy** from his over-exposure to outside influences.

I would try anything to get the inspiration I needed, any change that might change the direction of my mind for the better. Anything seemed to make sense at this point.

I emerged from my world of thought only briefly to speak. "**We can stop for a rest here for five minutes**." I told the Shadowscales, then looked towards a batch of trees by the left side of the road and headed towards them with faux confidence, as if I didn't realize how odd the idea was. They obeyed, still silent. I took my canteen from my side and took a small drink out of it to add to the illusion that I wasn't facing inner troubles.

There wasn't a hugely obvious transition between the path and forest in the Bravil district. The forest floor was just a bit grassier than the road.

I turned my back to a tree and leaned against it, taking another sip from my canteen.

I let my head sag, figuring if I paid no attention to the Shadowscales they would pay no attention to me.

The crickets were still chirping. Now that I was trying so hard to think that seemed annoying. I heard a horse trotting down the path past us. That was an even bigger disturbance as I was trying to milk something out of my brain. It was grueling trial as I pushed my mind to even remember all the questions that I needed to answer to feel secure about what was happening:

_How will I explain this mistake to the Black Hand?_

_How will I hide what I've done from the Shadowscales?_

_How will I explain to them why I need information from **Fights-up-close**?_

_What should I tell them is our reason for returning to Anvil?_


	55. Destructive Thought

Sun's Height 20

(**Fights-up-close**): Two Sisters Inn

* * *

Back in the lovely familiarity of the humid Gideon sanctuary, I knew my redemption had to be here soon. 

"**All lies**?" I asked.

"**All of it**." He responded. But his words were not terse or stern, they were an attempt to comfort, and they seemed to reach deep within me.

I didn't know if I was feeling more pleasure or pain, but the feelings touched me deeper than I felt anything should go. I felt cold, and somehow bringing my deeds into the open was painful, even when they were so understanding. But I knew this pain wasn't self-perpetuating like most pain, this was different. This was one last walk through the thorns. Then I could be free.

"**The people of Argonia will forgive you**, **Fights-up-close. We forgive you. Our enemies have tried to deceive all of us." Learns-fast **said as he clutched my hand in earnesty "**They will welcome you with open arms**

"**Give me the book**." He said softly. I instantly pursued the opportunity to show kindness towards him, but none of it ever felt like it would be enough to compensate what I'd done and how they'd welcomed me. I took the book from the pouch at my side and handed it to him. My hand was quivering. I felt like it took a deal of bravery just to be here and conscious, to face my deeds, but I knew this would all end with a euphoria as pure as any. The emotion was so powerful, so pure, so new, so spiritual. But I felt it was too much. Too much to contain in my soul.

He gently took the book from me, and placed it in the nearest hallway torch. A few sparks were stirred up, then the book complacently began to disintegrate in the fire. Pages turned black and shriveled.

But I still felt so vulnerable when the truth was so obvious, when I was so directly connected to reality. In a way, it was like I'd retreated into bitterness and cynicism to avoid these tough, soul-wrenching moments with the true heros of Tamriel.

**Goes-in-heavy** sensed my pain.

"**Soon it will be like this never happened. I've done far worse. They forgave me for that too. **" He said, his eyes pleading my return to happiness.

He was right. I didn't have to be lost in thought any more. I could be happy here in physical reality. I could return to the days of true happiness untainted by doubt or guilt. I could come back to that place I'd left for months with new trust gained from my frightening journey. I just wanted to love again now.

Comfort and confidence were returning.

Then I heard the door to my left creak open. **Hides-in-shadows**? I turned to see who it was.

I jerked involuntarily at the sight. It was a man in a Dark Brotherhood uniform, but his face was nothing but shadow. In his hand was a piece of paper. A list.

His voice was distorted in some hard to describe way.

"I've made you feel like this before. I wasn't honest. I was effective." A horrible fear, greater than the simple danger of a situation could give me, filled me as I could tell a super-natural hell was washing over me.

Then, the Gideon sanctuary was fading. I was floating a way from it all. I was thrown around with by forces much greater than me, not knowing where I'd end up.

Then I was lying on and in something soft. I could see the inside of an angular wooden triangle. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling: The Two Sisters Inn.

I could still feel some reminisce of that dream. The soul-wrenching guilt, the magical comfort, and the horrible fear, a fear worse than anything the inflicter of such fear could actually do to me.

Something epic had happened in that dream. There were collosal ups and downs.

I tried to recall it, but all I had were fragments with no connectivity. I remembered seeing **Learns-fast** again, and seeing the cloaked figure, but that deep magical emotion was starting to fade.

I was stranded in reality.

It wasn't ups and downs here anymore. Just downs. I feared my own thoughts. They made me feel like I was falling. My beliefs, the ground on which my actions sprung from and the ground from which my more mature notions grew were disintegrating. I didn't know if there was a bottom, an absolute, undeniable knowledge anymore. That was what I was searching for, but I didn't know how much more I'd losing while attempting to find it.

_Can I trust anyone?_ That was the question gnawing at my consciousness. The demonic words "I wasn't honest. I was effective." were still playing in my head. All I wanted was mental security. While other people dwelled on physical problems, unknowingly blessed, I couldn't even find refuge in my own mind.

That brought back a yearning for the old days: the days when I felt so noble in uniform, when I could feel euphoria just by being with my family from the swamps, and when **Goes-in-heav**y and I could get so many laughs out of the mixes of Argonian and Cyrodiillic language we had to make when we were first trying to learn the language. But that's all it was, a memory. My existence could never be restored to those levels.

I finally made some sort of movement, rolling over to turn towards the two tall windows of the room, then stared into their light with a dull anguish. _Why did I even do that? Why do I do anything? Why do I persist on living? _

The good night's sleep had not a magical elixir as I had hoped it be. There was no magical enlightenment. I still felt depression welling up inside me, and the same thoughts running through my head. I could feel a ravenous hunger inside me, but right now there no eagerness to do anything. Moving just reminded me of my existance.

Maybe a few months back, when I would have seen this suffering as part of Sithis' divine plan, the pain would be more like a challenge to overcome. Now, with my new doubts, it was...pain.

I yearned so badly to go back to the days before I turned twenty. The days when my own mind didn't feel like my enemy, and every action I did didn't require second guessing.

Still, even when there was no urge to do anything, I knew it was only logical to be as comfortable as possible just to mellow the pain.

In a moment of willpower, I sat up, though already felt oncoming tears from the crushing truth: _you can be deceived. _I twitched at the overbearing words in my mind.

I was stagnant other than that. I felt like I could have stayed in this room forever, in this very position, until I dehydrated. I was not only discouraged because I was unsure of the worth of my cause, but I was unsure of the worth of myself. Living felt like such an exhausting job, yet I never seemed to make any progress. Anytime I made some kind of conclusion, doubt retaliated against it. My thoughts were no longer working forwards, they worked backwards. 

I swung my legs over to the side of the bed. I hesitated a bit once more, then stood up. The feeling of discouragement still haunted me, but at least uncertainty always meant there was room for hope. There was a quick flash of happiness before a question brought me back down.

I took the blankets off and stood up. I remembered I had slept in my clothing the night before, and I didn't feel motivated enough to put on something fresh now either.

I felt cold, but I knew it was because of something deeper than the ambient temperature.

My shoes were right next to the door. I stepped off of the soft carpeting onto the hard, glazed wood and jammed my feet into my shoes. I opened up the door and stepped out into the hallway.

I mentally reoriented myself briefly to figure out where the stairs were, then began walking in that direction. The hallway floor greeted me with a creak.

The corrosive words were still playing in my head as I walked. The sleep had not been the magical cure. Maybe I'd already lost any glory in life with my epiphanies.Images of suicide were already coming into my head, but even if that idea made sense it seemed unimaginably hard: it would be acknowledging my life was a failure, even if only to myself, and acknowledging there was more pleasure than pain in the present and future.

I felt the urge to burst into tears on someone's shoulder. This whole ordeal was so exhausting, but it might only end when I did.

I slowly stepped down the creaky steps, trying my best to gain better composer for when I would finally buy some kind of breakfast. I was still out of view of the publican, and tried to wipe my eyes.

I made it to the bottom of the steps, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible. The publican was sorting out some bottles behind the counter. Good. The less eye contact, the better. It looked like I was alone, though. That, I didn't like: I was nervous she would try making conversation at a time like this. Obviously it wouldn't be a good idea to describe my problems to her.

I could just imagine how that would work out.

I released one forceful breath, the beginning of a laugh as I imagined what that conversation would have gone like, but I never even had time to form a smile before the tragedy of the situation came back to me with all its crushing power.

I made it to the counter and looked at the writing on the board in the back to see what I could purchase. I didn't think there was much I could enjoy in a time like this, so I just looked for what was quickest to eat.

A sweet roll, I decided, would be my breakfast. 3 septims.

Looking down, I fished through my pocket and pulled out that amount, and placed it on the counter, then muttered "Sweetroll, please." trying to make my voice as inconspicuous as possible without being inaudible. I didn't want to show signs of any despair. I wasn't comfortable with anyone asking questions about my problems.

"Sure thing." The Orc said, obviously more cheerful than me. I could hear my coins being dragged away against the table as I stared down at the floor, then sat down to look more natural.

Mental security was all I wanted. I would accept any physical ordeal in the stead of these horrible epiphanies. What I really yearned for was an absolute truth. Somewhere to confidently stand and work from.

Out of the far top reaches of my vision I could see some movement. I lifted my head slightly to see the sweet roll laying on top of a napkin.

I mumbled a gravely "Thanks," and then lifted the napkin with the sweet roll off the table, afraid to make conversation about my problems. I would eat it upstairs.

I walked back towards the stairs. All the chairs were still upside down the on tables.

As I walked up the stairs I took a bite of the sweetroll. For a second, I felt peaceful as my tongue basked in the sweetness, but the spurt of enjoyment only gave me a more crushing reminder of the barrier in my life a second later.

As I made it to the top of the stairs and swallowed, there was an odd acidic feeling in my stomach, maybe because I was eating something of such intense flavor early in the morning, but I wasn't sure.

I turned around so I could make my way to the second flight of stairs. Then, oddly, I felt a sensation like rabid, painful hunger. I took a big bite out of the sweet roll.

Yet as I took a few more steps, all the sudden I could feel like what I'd just eaten was ready to come up.

The balcony. I had seen a balcony here on my way in, probably on this floor. It seemed more polite to throw up on the street than the wooden floor for some reason, so I instantly began to rush for the first door I saw which I hadn't been through.

I rushed towards the door, swung it opened, and looked down onto the empty streets. To my surprise, there was still the orange glow of sunrise coating the streets. No one was out. I had woken up very early.

I coughed. Nothing.

Then I could definitely feel it coming. I was eager to get this over with.

Then, what little I had managed to get in my stomach came out, splattering onto the cobblestone sidewalk. Since there wasn't much in my stomach, the bitter taste of bile was dominant.

I stayed in that position reflecting on all that had just happened.

I no longer felt hungry, but I couldn't keep living with this stress, and that must have been what caused it. I clearly wasn't sick with any sort of infection. I needed answers, somehow. Evidently, I couldn't eat and sleep well without something to soothe my mind.

With all my mental mite, I tried to recall the names of the other books I found by **Goes-in-heavy's** side.


	56. Ripples

A/N: This chapter has undergone revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note, revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 20

(**Fights-up-close**): Anvil

* * *

The statue was covering my left, my dagger was unsheathed, and I was clad in all black clothing. I was prepared, yet for the first time I could remember, I felt fearful in the empty streets, silence, and shadows. 

I could feel a gaze upon the back of my neck.

I once again decided to whip my head back. Nothing but the garden across from the chapel stared back at me. I turned back to the barrel.

For once in my life, I wanted to get back to the well-lit and tightly enclosed spaces where there was nowhere to hide. With all I'd been tricked into, I felt more like the prey than the predator, so the kind of environment that would normally give me a feeling of power gave me a feeling of fear. I couldn't help but imagine all kind of terrors emerging from the various hiding places grotesquely intertwined with the city.

But I knew if I got through this, this might be the moment that ended all this uneasiness. I could finally confront the traitor, who had been ebbing away any feeling of safety in me, mental or physical. With an opportunity to meet the mind behind this frightening plan, I knew this could be a chance seal these uncertainties once and for all. Yet I couldn't help but imagine so many unexplainable horrors coming around from my left, causing me to be swallowed up by fear like in last night's nightmare.

As the wind blew, I thought I heard the pages of a book fluttering to my right. I turned to my right only to see the leaves on a small stick fluttering against the ground.

I knew why it had sounded like a book to me. The books I'd read, written about the Argonian Royal Court's kidnapping and now of the Dark Brotherhood's greed and double crossing, had taken a ghostly presence in my mind.

I turned back to the barrel.

Then there was a more significant anomaly in the silence: footsteps against the sandy shores of the mini-lake by this statue. It was time. It was time to see the haunting figure, the second traitor, who'd been so much more effective than the first, **Goes-in-heavy**. It was time to see this person who'd cast a shadow of fear over me. But now, if things were going as they seemed, I would be taking _him or her _by surprise. Here I could confront the physical manifestation of my uncertainty.

But the first thing I noticed was a prominent, practically glowing, whiteness in the darkness, not the dark and mysterious figure I was expecting. A fury white vest was draped over the short figure. It looked like...a boy. A child was the root of all this terrifying cunning devastation? He was the source of the death of several members of the Black Hand?

The boy put down two items he was holding: a bag and a letter as best as I could make out. Then, he took the lid off the barrel and placed it on the ground. Yes, he was indeed the one dropping off the dead drop.

For all this time, I had wanted to put a name and a face to this mysterious terror: the source of the Purification, the source of this guilt, the source of this discouragement, the source of my worry. To finally burst out from that shell of helplessness and find some kind of closure. At the very least, I wanted answers.

I pounced the target. He was my answers, my fear, my guilt, my second thoughts, all wrapped up in a vulnerable little package.

As I made contact, he instantly gave way, falling to the ground like a rag doll, the side of his face was flat on the ground. I was sure he could barely even see his attacker.

With a firm hold and a firmer will, I kept my dagger near his neck. He turned his head to a more comfortable position, on its side, but I knew he still couldn't see his captor in any kind of decent focus. Now, he was here to face my demands and answer my questions. Finally, I was on top, and if I didn't like his answers, he would face my fury.

"No, please, don't! Don't hurt me!" The boy cried "He _paid_ me to do it!"

_Paid._

It made perfect sense now. He was a proxy of the traitor. I wasn't that close to ending this nightmare. He was taking money to do dodgy business.

A new found fury filled me. While I was eroded through this crisis, this little coward had accepted money to contribute to disasters he knew nothing about in his cushy world of amorality. Now he was at my "mercy". I pressed my left palm harder into his back. My right, dagger-holding hand quivered.

"You little fetcher!" I said, feeling the need of every bit of coarse hostility I could muster "Who is this 'he'!?"

"I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything wrong! It was the hidden man. He...he _paid_ me to put those things in the barrel!" He said, as his face was uncomfortably pressed against the grass and dirt, only a fraction of the suffering he deserved and I felt I could inflict now that the tables had turned. The word 'paid' being used in an excuse was a slap in the face of all decent people. He had converted my helpless suffering into a quick septim, and the fact that he saw that as an excuse made me all the more bitter towards the world. "I don't know his name, and his face was in shadow. He called to me last week when I walked by the light house. I think he lives there. Or he did, anyway. He told me he was leaving Anvil. I'm sorry, but that's all I know!"

I took every iota of time and space I could and converted it into intimidation. I brought the point of my dagger down to his soft, sensitive throat. I spoke in sharp whispers "Liar! Tell me everything or die!"

"No! Please!" he pleaded pathetically "The lighthouse! Just outside the city walls! I think the man lives there!" I brought my dagger slightly closer to his throat, and succeeded in squeezing out the last bits of information "In...in the cellar!" Then continued conspiratively "I don't know what goes on down there, but there's a horrible smell coming from underneath that door. It's like...something died inside. Listen, that's all I know, really!" I saw no reason to act like I believed him.

"You're holding back." I coldly accused.

"Talk...talk to Ulfgar." He said, his fear evident and well deserved "He's the lighthouse keeper, and probably rented out the cellar. He's sure to have the key to cellar. You know, if...if want to get down there. Now please, just let me go!"

_Talk to Ulfgar_. I'd managed to squeeze a bit more information out of him. That was my next waypoint.

But now here was the vile little coward, at the point of my dagger, blatantly demonstrating his own greed.

I could it do now: rip through his flesh with the wrath of justice and let his blood seep into dirt and sand. It could happen by my own hand, with my own brutal passion. It was my duty to take those who made their way up through immorality down.

But it was an unplanned kill. I was already worried about the law after killing Philida and Draconis.

Both options stalemated in my head. Thinking of killing him brought me fear. Thinking of letting him live felt like an affront to me, and I couldn't shake the feeling of cowardess attached to it. I hated him, but I hated the situation even more. I hated how those who were said to "protect and serve" Anvil were what stood between me and doing this little fetcher justice.

I slowly lifted my dagger away from him, which was quivering at the sickening injustice of the situation, and lifted my body from his. It felt so horribly vile, and I couldn't comfort myself about what was going on. I couldn't pretend this vile injustice wasn't real: doing so would only make me as bad as them.

Slowly, and hesitantly, he got up. I wouldn't let this go. Whatever kind of absurd labels the Cyrodiils through on to that sort of thing: maturity, kindness, rationality, I wouldn't let him go.

He made it to his feet and looked at me with wide and fearful eyes, glimmering with suffering, half his face covered in dirt. He had found, no doubt to his surprise, that his amorality wasn't for his benefit.

My mind made contact with the wall of fury in front of any comfort I could feel as I delivered a passionate punch to his face. I felt a temporary relief, but I knew he deserved so much more. He fell into a sitting position, giving me the same look of pseudo-innocence. Whoever came up with the phrase "innocence of a child" should have been hanged.

"Just, just leave me alone!" He pleaded pathetically "I don't want no trouble!" Then, holding his nose, scurried off. I knew he wouldn't tell, because there was still more damage I could do, but I still stood there, twitching with outrage at the situation.

I began walking mechanically in the direction of the coast, where the lighthouse would likely be, but my mind wasn't on my destination. All my thoughts were on the conversation I'd just had. As I walked passed the chapel, the sickeningly ineffective way of Cyrodiils to instill morality, I was trying to drill that kid's face into my mind. This wasn't over. Nothing could be over until I won. Once I even considered that I was a coward like him.

I knew my reasons for hating the kid were entangled in complicated issues, and took some digging to get to, but they were valid none the less. It was not because he supported the traitor: it was because he turned death into a business, and made no qualms about it.

But this anger was providing guard rails for my thoughts. It was providing me with new energy. It replaced the doubt that was constantly peeling away at my consciousness

As I thought about the traitor, my thoughts also drifted to **Goes-in-heavy** briefly. It was he who started this new chapter in my life. I couldn't remember exactly when it was I killed him. It felt like yesterday, yet at the same time all the days before I'd found out of his betrayal felt like a lifetime ago. All this hardship had destroyed my concept of large-scale time. But now, in my fury, I couldn't feel guilt or loss. I could feel only disgust at injustice that went unchecked. My thoughts soon found themselves back on the greedy kid.

_The kid had come from the Western part of the town, and scurried off in that direction. He lived there, somewhere. He wore a white vest. His hair was brown. _

I tried to drill these details into my mind. I'd carve them into my arm if I needed to.

_The kid had come from the Western part of the town, and scurried off in that direction. He lived there, somewhere. He wore a white vest. His hair was brown. _

The streets were still empty, and eerie shadows were still cast, but hatred had replaced fear. I was ready to fight anything or die trying.

The kid's words came back to me again "there's a horrible smell coming from underneath that door. It's like...something died inside." There was no way he didn't know he was working for crooks. And what about the lighthouse keeper? He must have known too. He would have to face retribution as well.

I twitched as I thought of all the evil of the world had laid onto me. My path felt clear again. A blood lust had taken over me. They'd regret what they'd transformed me into. They'd soon witness the power of a courageous soul, even as they gave into evil behind their facades of innocence. I had become as hard as a rock through this, probably as cold as one too, but they'd regret that soon.

I was entering the harbor now. I was coming closer to finding the source of my suffering in this vast, mysterious, ugly world.

I made the transition from stone streets to wooden planks laying upon the sandy ground. Waves lapped against the shore.

As I turned to walk down the planked path, I could see a few glowing torches. I hoped the people carrying them would stay out of my way. Anything slightly off kilter would be huge annoyance now. Even a friendly smile would seem like an affront.

In the distance, I could see the lighthouse. An amazing Cyrodiillic structure, but the base of a man I hated. It was a symbol of evil now. And yet the anger cleansed me somewhat. I had a feeling of purpose. I no longer felt jaded or afraid. I felt certainty. A morbid certainty, accompanied by gruesome desires, but a certainty none the less.

I felt myself heating up at the thoughts of getting that cellar key out of Ulfgar. Ulfgar must have known something was not right with the smells coming from his cellar, and let he harbored the traitor. I hoped he'd make me fight him for the key, and I hoped I could put every last iota of my energy into taring up his body. I fantasized about all the pain I'd built up being converted into energy and released for justice's sake in an impassioned struggle, showing my the superiority in the end even when I had so many more troubles to wade through.

There was a cold breeze, taking away some of my body heat. I looked towards the light house again, trying to formulate some kind of plan, the blood-lust finally serving some practical purpose in my mind. I could see there was a bright light on the top level, but that was it. Ulfgar was somewhere in there, comfortable and unaware of all the effort I'd been making which would ultimately lead to this downfall.

I began to see the end of the planked pathway. A few stairs descended into an untamed area of grass, sand, and rock. I felt sickened by the situation. I was sickened by what my transfer to Cyrodiil had become, sickened that the kid who planted the dead drops was still alive, and sickened that a man who let an obvious crook live in his basement was still hadn't even been given a good scare.

The rest of the path to lighthouse appeared to be a compromise between nature and Cyrodiillic additions, with a pathway of planks broken into small segments, lined with hanging lanterns. My shoes sank into the sand, came back onto the weathered planks, and sank into the sand again. I could see the door: the door to my enemy's base of operations. It was far from the rest of the city. Away from everyone else at night. Perfect for an assassin.

Then I was in front of the door. Lost in thought, and yet anchored in reality at the same time, I walked up the stone steps to the door. I put my hand on the door handle and pulled. Opened. Good. Just about anything getting me in the way of Ulfgar could cause my fury to spill out.

I stepped into the homey room, a stark contrast from the wide-opened and dark outdoors. Fire lit the rooms white walls. I hoped he heard me coming. I hoped I was terrifying. I unsheathed my dagger. I enjoyed the feeling of power more than ever now, and knew I'd enjoy the power of the stabs even more.

There was a small staircase. For some odd reason, half the room was a couple of feet higher than the other. I climbed up the small staircase of the weird Cyrodiillic construction. I swung open the door to my left only to find myself looking at the Gold Coast again. _Just keep pushing it_. I thought, but not quite sure who I was directing the dare to. The situation was outrageous enough as it was.

I ferociously pushed open the door that was directly in front of the staircase now. My heart was beating fast and I could smell the air of sweat with the wind that was created from the abrupt opening of the door. I walked up the spiral stone staircase, clutching the dagger tightly. _I'm coming, Ulfgar_. I clenched my teeth as I walked. I couldn't wait until all this anger burst out of me and liberated me from its burden. .

Around the last bend I came to face a ladder with a hatchway above it. I placed my hands on the wooden rungs. If he wasn't on top of the lighthouse, there was only one more door to check.

Truth and justice were so close I could feel them.

I opened the hatchway to find my face smothered with hot air. The stone that made the floor of the top of this lighthouse was glazed in an orange light. But through the large blaze in the center, I could see the figure of a tall, long-gray-haired man, hands in his pockets, looking into the sea.

I lifted myself onto the stone floor. The loud crackling of the large fire probably blocked out all my footsteps. Soon I would be able to rip away the helplessness to expose the inner beast. He was an ordinary man who thought he could make a quick septim without repercussion. He was wrong.

Dagger in hand, I was only a step behind him when he turned. It caused me to jerk involuntarily. He gave me a look of innocent curiosity that only brought on more savage thoughts.

The weathered old man spoke immediately "Well now, what might you want?"

In a blur I brought my dagger to his face and leaned in forward. He stepped back, then grabbed the railing, shaken by nearly falling off the lighthouse, and arched his back in instinctive fear of the raw fury I was demonstrating. "The key to cellar! Now!" I hissed.

"What?" He said, his eyes darting around fearfully, his death only a small push or slice away "W-what's the meaning of all this? What's going on here?" _How dare he push for any answers. _I brought my dagger point closer to his neck, smothering his situation with fear. "I-I don't want no trouble!" He said, then, I watched his shoulder move about as one hand rifled through his pocket "Here," he stammered. Then there was a metal tink as something hit the stone floor "t-take the damn key!"

There was no fight here.

I slowly withdrew the dagger from its place by his neck with a great deal of willpower. I felt sickened and dirty for sparing him the seconds of suffering, but the key was on the stone floor now.

Trying to keep the state of absolute dominance, I crouched down to pinch the key while keeping my right hand, which held the dagger, raised. Then, with the key in hand, slowly got back into my old position. The old man was sweating now. His breathing was irregular. Now I had the key in hand. To see the ugly old man standing there, intact, was an outrageous sight. But my goal was accomplished.

The forces of mission efficiency and revenge began battle in my head. If I pushed him off the edge right now, it would look like an accident. He would have a terrifying last moment. But there was always a risk. My hand quivering violently.

Ulfgar didn't understand my inner dilemma "Look I...I got nothing else to say to you. Just leave me be." He stammered fearfully.

My grip around his life was loosening with the indecision.

I took an ever so subtle step back, dagger still at bare. He leaned ever so slightly forward, glistening with sweat. Another burst of fury came to me after that. _This is blatant injustice, you can't let him get away with that! _I clutched the dagger tighter.

_What if someone sees? You've murder impulsively before, and this time you can't just escape the town. You have things to do._

The situation was so frustrating I could feel oncoming tears. I was standing in the middle of the night with a man who's crime I'd witnessed directly, hesitating to kill him.

I took a step forward, but collided with an emotional barrier again. Fear. It grasped me tightly and held me back. It made the reasons for avoidance come back to me. But Cyrodiil had a sort of power over me, maybe greater than the power I had over him right now. There was no comfort I could find in that.

I took a step back again. _The answers are in the cellar. They might determine if you'd been right or wrong all these years. If someone sees you kill him, you'll have to leave this place._ I took another step back. And another. It looked like I was going to take the mellow approach, even while the alternative still nagged me.

I lifted the hatchway and positioned myself on the ladder.

Down the rungs. All these inner battles were peeling away my confidence and security just like before. I was still hot and sweaty, my heart was still pounding, but I had decided on the mellow approach.

I yearned for the days where my superiors made these tough choices for me. It seemed like every minute was occupied by another mind-aching decision these days.

I walked mechanically down the steps, anger still nagging me that Ulfgar was up there, safe. There was nothing I could comfort myself with. I needed to hard-press his crimes into my mind for the next time we'd meet.

Every moment of my life was becoming an exhausting burden, the anger-induced adrenaline being what little fuel I had to continue.

But even that was a fuel I couldn't embrace with enthusiasm. Maybe it was just an unfulfillable, pathetic urge that would torment me. I'd let two of those scumbags get away already, and I knew nothing about this traitor.

I opened the door, back to the room at ground level, back to the staircase. The urge for battle was still boiling inside me. And that urge had been denied. _Denied_. Another burst of anger.

I wanted to rip the nearest painting from the wall and tare it to pieces. But what would that mean? Nothing unless I deluded myself into believing it was my enemy, but that was a weakness. I could never delude myself to what they did. I'd be a coward just like the rest of them.

I exited the lighthouse, back into the cold night air. I'd made it this far. I'd pushed nearly all the pain of the past out of me to make room for anger. The answers would either never arrive, or they would be found in the cellar. I walked around the light house.

As I stood by the cellar door I could detect that horrible stench the boy was referring to, but I unlocked the cellar none the less. Ahead I could see nothing but shadow. I pushed magicka into my eyes to get the night-eye effect.

I stepped in, beginning to feel tense as the truth was so close. I went down the steps of the stoney cellar. The anger was starting to fade, replaced with disgust at the stomach-wrenching stench and an unexplainable fear of the power of what I would find here. I could see a dog carcass below, but I knew that wasn't where all the smell radiated from.

As I finished my way down the stairs I turned to the right. There was a room full of barrels, and disorderly placed tables and cupboards. The stink was growing so intense I could almost taste it. The fear was growing worse. I felt not only nauseous, but queezy. Fear wrapped around me and the scent of death smothered me. I was used to killing, but never really saw its after effects.

There was an orcish women, naked, laying sloppily atop one of the cupboards, flies all over her body. My mouth felt extra wet as I tried to keep the contents of my stomach down. I needed to get my answers and get out of this hell.

As I got deeper in the macabre room there was some source of light. It stung my eyes, so I stopped inducing in the night-eye spell.

Some candles provided an eerie glow for the back part of the room and illuminated a most terrible sight. Bones, blood, and rotting body parts marked the floor. Some lay atop a table, as if being dissected and studied. I was used to blood, but the sight of detached body parts was too much. I thought I would be mentally prepared for this sort of thing: to see the human body degraded and mutilated into these sort of lifeless things. I wasn't.

There was an overwhelming sense of confusion and fear. I was beginning to gag. I rushed through the door up ahead, burst through it, trying to escape the horror that had invaded all my sense.

The next room had slightly better light, but it only illuminated more horrors. Though I was relieved to see no more detached body parts, the body of a man lay similarly atop a barrel, in a grotesquely unnatural positioned signifying the helplessness we had to the effects of death and its unremovable grip.

But there was something to the right. Closer to the light of the candle than anything else was a book. With my attention chiefly on that object, all other thoughts out of mind, I ran to grasp it. Swooping with one hand to pick it up, I was left with one last revolting scene: a head, placed right-side-up on a plate, most of its exterior rotted off, revealing the ugly, seldom known truths of human physiology.

Then I ran again. I ran frantically to get back outside. I knew the disturbance of what I saw would never wash away fully, but then and there I was fighting and losing a battle with my own stomach.

I viciously burst through the cellar door. The crisp night air was more refreshing than a swim in the Topal Sea on a hot day but the gruesome images were still all too real in my mind.

I ran from the grassy hilltop down the steep sandy shores, crashing into a rock standing between me and the Abacean Sea. I panted, but it wasn't the run that made me do it. It was much deeper than that.

I tried my best to relax, allowing my back to fall onto the steep sandy shores. I was in this alien place, facing alien horrors. It was starting to feel like nothing I'd learned through life in Argonia would be of any use here.

I shuddered and fidgeted as the images of what I'd seen came back.

I looked down at the book. There was no title. A diary, most likely. I was feeling tension take hold of me again. I clenched it tighter. But I knew this was just a battle of will, and, finally taking the side of courage, I opened the cover, and forced myself to look at the words.

This was where all the answers were.

_It's all right, mother. It's almost over. I'm close. So very close. How long have we struggled? How long have we waited? Too long, I know. But it's almost over. I promise. _

I took in every word slowly and carefully.

_killhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhim  
killhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhim  
killhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhim  
killhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhimkillhim _

I turned the page, that sick feeling I'd gotten in the cellar coming back.

_mommy mommy as you lie the dark man comes and makes you die my daddy's hands are red with guilt because he killed the life we built _

_I hate it! All this lying, all this pretending! Sithis and the Five Tenets be damned! How long do I have to live by their rules? How long before I get my chance? I saw Lucien Lachance yesterday. He was in the Sanctuary talking with Ocheeva. He was right there! So close I could have severed his spine in less than a heartbeat! Oh Mother, never before have I had to exercise such self-control. What's sickeningly ironic is that it was the Dark Brotherhood's discipline that allowed me to restrain myself. I've been a part of their "family" for so long it's a part of me, whether I like it or not. And in all that time I've fooled them all. They see me as a fellow member of the Brother, a trusted family member. Some day soon I will learn the truth about the Night Mother, and when I do, I will use that trust to get close to her. Close enough so that I may rend the head from her body, just as Lucien Lachance did to you so long ago! _

I turned the page again. A sickening fear of the extent of the situation was starting to encroach upon me. The Night Mother? He thought he could get to her...and kill her? And he knew Ocheeva...did the Purification...fail somehow? How...

_Damn it, mother! Why did it have to be this way? Maria was so beautiful. She was perfect in so many ways. Why couldn't she handle the truth? Why couldn't she realize her "family" didn't really love her? She was a murderer like the rest of us. Paid to kill in the name of Sithis. I really thought we could be together. Make a real family, with real love. But she told me she could never accept your place in my life. So now she's gone. She didn't deserve to live after the horrible things she said about you. I never should have told her, I know. I'm so sorry. It will never happen again, and the others will never find her, don't worry. There's nothing left of her to find. _

_IliketolieinthegrassandwatchtheantsandwishI  
wereoneofthemintheirundergoundmazesosafefromthe  
darknessofpeoplehorriblepeopleIwillkillthem  
allkilltheantskillthepeoplekilleverything _

Maria. There was something familiar about that name. What had gone on before I'd arrived in Cheydinhal? The urge to remove everything from my digestive system was growing once again.. I was afraid. I knew how he thought. He had the cunning and motivation to pull this off. We had empowered his spirit just as he had empowered mine. I understood his determination. I understood I should fear him. I turned the page again.

_Some wonderful news, mother! Advancement at last! Lucien Lachance paid a visit to the Sanctuary today, to talk with me! He told me the Black Hand needed my services. One of the other Speakers is looking to replace his assistant, who was killed fulfilling a contract. So Lucien Lachance suggested me! I met with the Speaker, and will serve as his new "Silencer." Ha! Lachance might as well have given me a contract to kill the Night Mother herself! I am now one step closer to realizing our dream. I will learn the Night Mother's identity and tear the heart from her chest. Oh yes, and I have something special planned for Lachance himself... _

_mommy I so afrade. I mis yu mommy. I just wantyu to kis me agenn _

My hands were quivering with...some kind of emotion. Something guttural. Something unfamiliar. He was _in_ the Black Hand. He'd been that dedicated.

_I've been careless! Too careless. The bodies, the burnings. Killing that fool Blanchard was the worst mistake I've made so far. I was seen! I was cloaked and hooded, and escaped into shadow, so no one learned my true identity. But now the Black Hand is suspicious. They suspect treachery, suspect a traitor! I must be more cautious than ever. _

_when in the snow I like to lie and fold my arms and wait to die _

The traitor's efforts were neck and neck with mine. I was unraveling his plan, but he had torn apart the Dark Brotherhood. I got the chills.

_I did it, mother! I killed them all! I killed them and I cursed them to wander their ship in undeath for all eternity! They came to talk to the old man in the lighthouse. When they saw me, they could have kept walking. But no. They laughed! They laughed at me, mother! They called me names! They said I was strange, that I was a human rat, living here in the cellar of the lighthouse. They did not know who they were dealing with! So I snuck on board, later that night, and I slit their throats. Every last one of them. So there the Serpent's Wake sits. The ghost ship of Anvil they'll call it now! Ha ha ha ha ha!_

_I've been switching them! Switching the dead drops! It was so easy! I tracked Lachance from his lair at Fort Farragut to the first dead drop location. After Lachance placed the orders, when I was sure he was gone, I switched them! It was so easy. Now Lachance's fool Silencer is working for us, mother! Oh, the fun we'll have. One of the Black Hand told me they haven't seen such an ambitious family member since I first joined the Dark Brotherhood. I will use that very ambition to my own advantage. The fool will never question the dead drops, and as I write this is en route to the first target -- one of the very members of the Black Hand! And so it begins. Lachance's silencer will kill one high ranking Brother member, then another, then another, and so on, until the entire family implodes. Eventually, as is the custom, the survivors will consult the Night Mother and seek her guidance. When that day comes, I will be there, ready to punge a blade into that dark whore's fetid heart! _

I could feel a rising sensation in my torso. This was a documented case of deceiving the Black Hand. It was talk of killing a deity.

My enemy had outdone the Black Hand, and nearly outdone me. I couldn't help but feel a sense of...reverence. I turned the page.

_!eid lliw ecnahcaL neicuL _

The next page was blank.

As was the next.

And the next.

I was staring at the words of a man whose dedication had killed four members of the most feared council in the world. He had a decent plan to defeat the entire Dark Brotherhood. Would it take the entire Dark Brotherhood to defeat him? Obviously the entire Dark Brotherhood was no longer available.

I wanted to go limp on the shores and lie there. Starting anew only brought worse problems. Maybe it was time to finish.

A painful memory of the Purification, Tienaava's death, shot through me again:

* * *

I could see Tienaava again. He was staggering wildly. He'd removed my dagger but was now helpless to the effects of blood loss. A sad and disturbing sight, but one I hadn't fully processed at the time. There was a finally thud, and various clatters, as my brother's body landed ineloquently.

* * *

The memory was more real than my surroundings. I let out a long string Argonian profanities as it flew through my mind again. 

And Ocheeva:

* * *

I realized my fleshy vulnerability an instant before I delivered a merciless blow to side of her face with my left hand, disorienting her, and compensating for my first set back. She stumbled back down the stairs still grasping my hand. Her head hit the floor with a sharp thud. Not enough to kill her, but it caused her to release her grasp. I plunged my knife into her neck with brutal unhesitance, focused simply on eliminating the threat.

* * *

I wanted to tell them why I did it, but when they died I was a monster in their eyes. 

Then the end came back to me:

* * *

I heard a sound I couldn't quite distinguish from my right. It sent an unpleasant tingling through my body. I heard it again. It was clapping. A robed figured flowed from out of the shadows, advancing, and clapping. It was Lucien Lachance, the man who had caused all this death. His face was plastered with a confident smile amid the gore and odd poses of death of the family members.

* * *

When the brutal string of memories was over, I was panting. Sometimes I could be so cold-blooded, other times this was all painfully realistic. Right now, it was painfully realistic. 

But I propped myself up. The entire Dark Brotherhood could fall. I was neck and neck with this traitor in this battle. Every second counted if I was to save it.

I walked the steep shores, my shoes digging into the sand..

As I walked back down the path of sand and planks, I was internally debating with myself using logic, emotion, and something in-between...intuition maybe. If I delayed, or abandoned the Dark Brotherhood now, it could well be the end of it, but was that a bad thing?

I'd come here for answers. And what had I learned? I had learned that the traitor was out for revenge. He had witnessed the murder of his mother, and now he was out for revenge.

As I walked along the harbor I began trying to work that fact into the equation of all this, but my thoughts didn't feel solid enough. I wasn't quite falling again, but they didn't seem solid.

He had joined the Dark Brotherhood in his quest for revenge despite how despicable he found us. He became what he hated. Surely _that_ was despicable.

I knew I should have hated him for that, but I couldn't. I could only feel pity. Still, he was unexcused. He could have done it another way. He could have fought us as Philida and "Scar-tail" had.

But then I remembered they had failed. They never made this kind of progress. But did that justify taking up a career in the very organization he intended to destroy, becoming no different than any of us? Did killing tens in retribution for killing one justify anything? No.

Yet...he was planning on _destroying_ the Dark Brotherhood. That was something people had attempted for centuries and failed at. I was facing the choice to make or break the most significant event in underworld history. I remembered Lachance's words "our organization has survived for more than a millennium." If the traitor was stopped, we might continue that much longer.

As jading as it was to acknowledge, his savage methods might have been justified.

The others had failed. But this traitor...he was about to become the Dark Brother to end all Dark Brothers. If he succeeded...it would be 'worth it'.

I got the chills. I was beginning to think the situation was so bad that his atrocities really were in right. It was a horribly depressing thought, but I couldn't shake the urge to congratulate him for making it this far. I could feel a guttural pity for him.

Nothing I'd learned from the book I'd picked up in Skingrad, The Brothers of Darkness and Sacred Witness: A true History of the Night Mother, was in the Dark Brotherhood's favor, either. Even as a Dark Sister, I had an urge to...root for him. Maybe if I had known my parents, I'd be in a similar situation: stuck in childhood with an maddening thirst for vengeance.

During all this internal debate, I'd made my way back into the city from outside the harbor. I was staring at that statue again. With the situation solved, it seemed like a totally new place. The emotion of it all was different. It wasn't fear anymore, it was sadness. Discouragement. No matter which side I chose, I knew I'd never feel the confidence and nobility in it I once knew in uniform.

I had come here undecided...and learned nothing to make me love my family anymore. After reading the other two books I found on "Scar-tail"'s body, his words seemed all the more true. The traitor wasn't becoming what he hated, but I was hating what I'd become. Most of us were no better than the boy with the dead drop or the lighthouse keeper, and those of us who were only obeyed the Black Hand because of our ignorance.

Once again, a coldness tingle across my scales.

As I walked past the chapel once again, I made the conscious decision I was no longer a Dark Sister. I would give the traitor his revenge. As a form of reconciliation, I knew my life was over. At best, I would be in Cyrodiil with no place to live and not enough money to buy one. At worst, I would be hunted down like **Goes-in-heavy**, maybe slain by another well-intended Shadowscale.

I felt guilt shoot through my body once again as I remembered him.

I tried to comfort myself the same way I comforted myself with Dovesi and Primo's deaths: it was just a few minutes of pain and terror.

But now, just when I thought the world couldn't get any heavier, I realized I had never truly noticed the ripple effect of my actions. The traitor's mother may well have only experienced a few seconds of terror, but the shockwave of it had cause so much pain Bellamont's life. I realized the true power of a kill wasn't towards the one murdered.

I kept walking. I wasn't sure where I was going, but there was no reason to stop and acknowledge the pain I felt. My throat ached with oncoming tears, but I hardly cared about that anymore. I had no other option. It was the traitor's fate I was starting to be concerned about. He was flooding my thoughts, almost like we had been together in the cause. I just hoped he could find peace soon.

I could see the gate in the distance. I was heading out of Anvil. Why? I wasn't sure. I had no where better to head. I'd just go North. I'd walk through the woods and swim through the water until I was killed by a wild animal or found a way to live with myself, whatever came first.

I was nearly at the gate. I only wished I could give something back to the martyrs, **Goes-in-heavy** and Philida. I wished I could talk to them one more time and tell them what I'd learned. Since I had come to realize the ripple effect of my actions, I couldn't comfort myself with the idea that it was over quickly for them anymore. I had felt the ripples of "Scar-tail"'s death myself, even when I hadn't really seen it that way.

I went through the gate, not really caring where I ended up. I looked ahead into the unpopulated hills of the North. All that would be land I'd soon travel, away from the past, and the future.

I stepped past the walled gardens flanking the gate and the hanging lanterns which illuminated the path.

Then there was a moment of shock as I could no longer breath. A moment of disgust and irrational fury and panic overcame me as I realized there was hand over my mouth, a scaley hand, and I was being pulled left. I thrashed vigorously, but to no avail.

Someone was taking me to the area behind the stables. That jaded state I was feeling earlier had been completely ripped away and replaced with an overwhelming, nightmarish fear.

Then I saw two familiar faces. **Learns-fast**, and **Surveys-from-above**. Both nearly had their backs to the stable. I began to feel light-headed, my thoughts erratic as the drab world was now invaded beyond recognition by mysterious terrors that seemed to have melted away all reason and solidity in the world.

**Learns-fast** stepped forward, hands behind his back, and leaned forward in a way that was infuriatingly slow and casual. It was a disgusting contrast with the intensity in my mind and body. Prominent figures in my memory, now standing in front of me in their physical forms, watching me as only my captor's continued indifference could mean my death? "**Don't say a word.**" He whispered. Then nodded to someone: most likely the person covering my mouth.

The hand was released from my mouth, and I began gasping for air. _Freedom._ Facing the ground, my breaths were at first pushing my lung capacity to its limits, then getting gradually more mellow as I sucked in the cold air. Slowly, everything fell into place as the panic dissipated.

Still breathing heavily, I whipped around to see who had been the one to capture me.

For a second I didn't believe what I saw. No, it couldn't be. But yes, second after second it was still the same face.

It was **Cleaver**.

My mouth dropped open. No, that was impossible.

_What if this is just a nightmare?_ The thought gave me a second of bliss. Maybe I'd wake up back in the swamps when none of this had happened.

But I didn't wake. This was real. **Cleaver** was here. So was I.

**Learns-fast** put an end to the pointless stare and pulled my arm to get me to face him. His head tilted down conspiratively, his eyes lifted to look at me directly. Then, in a low voice asked "**Who is the traitor?**"

_This doesn't make sense._ _How are they all here in Anvil? How do they know about the traitor?_

"**I...I don't know. He ju...I...his..." **Then, unexpectedly and disrespectfully, he ripped the diary from my hand. I had almost forgot I was holding it. I began to quiver, unsure what to make of the situation.

He opened the cover and began skimming the first page. I held my breath, wondering what he'd make of it all. In the mean time, I could feel the gaze of the back-from-death Shadowscale behind me.

What did _he_ make of _me_?

I considered pushing out some kind of question. I knew they were here, and nothing else. I wondered what they knew about the recent crisis. I didn't know why, when, and how they came here, especially **Cleaver**. But I declined to ask. I didn't know what I could say without worrying about how I'd come off. I knew whatever was keeping **Cleaver** from doing any harm to me was fragile.

The guilty memories came back again, full surge. I clenched my fists tightly, almost as if trying to stand my ground against the fury of my conscience. I wanted to forget about the past, but here it was, staring me in the face. I tensed. I saw **Cleaver's** "death" again.

How could this happen? How could I ask? I wanted to just collapse. I thought about the golden hills longingly. I wanted to get away from all this. I wanted to end all this suffering. When such unexplainable occurrences like this happened, I just felt ready to give up on life.

I wanted to get out of here. There was a grueling tension as the eyes of the two other Shadowscales, one of whom I thought I killed, were upon me. I had been wrong to think this was over. Now I was filled with all sorts of odd and epic emotions as I stood feet away from the Shadowscale I'd stabbed. But I didn't dare look at him. I didn't know what to do or say. He needed to initiate any interactions.

As he read the traitor's diary, I could see only stern concentration on his face. He was not softening like I had.

But my mind was just as much on Tienaava. I had to fight the urge to shudder as I remembered his death. I didn't know what to say to him. I thought I wanted to see him again, but caught off guard it was all different. I was growing afraid he might break the silence, force me to talk to him again when I had no idea what to say.

Now **Learns-fast,** barely changed, flipped angrily through a few pages, which I assumed were blank. Then he slammed the diary shut and looked back up at me.

"**You never saw the traitor**?" He said, somewhere between a question and a statement. I nodded.

"**He hired someone to place the dead drop. He lived in the lighthouse. I went there and found that diary." **I replied, pouring over my own words an instant later, tensing as I became my own toughest critic of how I should present myself in this awkward situation. **"The traitor lived in the lighthouse."**

**Learns-fast** was silent for a moment. He pensively put his snout between his thumb and index finger.

"**Fine...you're going to Applewatch. That traitor will have to reveal himself eventually."**

_Reveal himself? How does going to Applewatch do that?_ **"But how w..." **I was cut off before I could finish, as if he was trying to suppress any questions.

"**You're going.** **If you don't the Black Hand doesn't have a chance.**" He stated sternly. I didn't reply. It didn't make sense, but what did I care? _I'm just going to walk into the Golden hills anyway._ "**We'll be escorting you there. You'll know what to do when you get inside." **_Or not?_

"**I can make it on my own." **I said. This was all against the decision I made to leave the Dark Brotherhood for dead. I didn't want anymore tension. I didn't want anymore questions.

"**This is too sensitive for that kind of attitude!" **He reprimanded. I was starting to feel annoyed with him. I was hurt too, like I usually felt when I disappointed my superiors, but in a different way. I was hurt that I had to swallow the bitter truth that I'd pretty much declared them my enemies, so even in their company I felt so alone. I had only Sithis, the true Sithis, if even. Then he spoke again "**Follow me, we're leaving now."**

I struggled within myself to find a way out of this. Try to kill them now? They were all armed, but were the other alternatives cowardly or wise?

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw **Cleaver** facing me. Studying me? I didn't dare turn to look. I just had to wonder what he was feeling. Would he be understanding, given that I was under orders? Or did he hate me?

I knew this would be a grueling trip.


	57. Inner Struggles

Sun's Height 20

(**Fights-up-close**): The Gold Road

* * *

I panted as the memory of the old Draconis woman finally released its grip on me. I knew I had been mumbling to myself some incoherencies, but I barely realized it at the time. I got nervous as I wondered if any of the others heard. I wanted some way to cover that up, so I wouldn't draw more attention to myself, but all I could do was act like it never happened. 

**Cleaver** was probably staring at me again, but never once on this trip did I turn to confirm it. I just watched him out of the corner of my eye without any conclusion. Still, I got the feeling he was studying me, and I wasn't sure he was trying to hide it.

I still didn't know how he lived through the Purification, but I was more afraid to speak than I was curious.

I looked into the starry sky above. It was a vast world, and I was really starting to see my place in it. I was one person. I should have expected its currents to throw me around like this.

For me the trip had been drenched in guilt and a sense of loneliness. I hadn't helped to fend off any of the creatures on the path. I had walked slowly. I had been holding back tears the entire time.

Memories of Summitmist Manor and the Draconis contract were constantly sending waves of guilt through me, making me clench my fists and teeth, shudder, and sometimes nearly collapse. I fantasized about sinking my dagger into my own flesh during them, cutting myself, but never followed through. If I was to die, I wanted to give the traitor his revenge.

And when these intense attacks of my conscience weren't enveloping me, I thinking about two subjects that were crushingly depressing.

I was either in intense quick spurt of agony, or prolonged states of depression.

One of these subjects was suicide. Though it crushed me to acknowledge it, being lifeless had to be better than the life I was living.

Then there were the ones surrounding me. My former family. I'd turned on them already, whether they knew it or not. Now...when they least expected it, I could do to them what I did to my other enemies: kill them. I knew I could take one of them down at least. It seemed so easy at certain times, when I thought back to all the deceits **Learns-fast** had taught me. But then when I thought about all the memories I had back in the swamps, and acknowledging I now had no one left to love, and signing my own death warrant at the hands of my brothers, it seemed so unbearably hard, especially when the other two Shadowscales didn't know what they'd been deceived into. It was used to killing those who I saw as greedy or wilfully blind. It would be hard to kill someone I knew was just living under misconception.

I didn't need to do either until the last minute, when the traitor would need to be revealed to Lucien Lachance. I could plan for now. Plan and decide. But I had been doing that for hours, and gotten nowhere.

I walked slowly, fear pushing my forward, guilt pushing me back, and logic trying to pick which emotion to welcome.

I thought about my odds of survival if I killed one of them, and my odds of escaping if I ran, and exactly what it would mean if I just followed orders.

But as I thought, I noticed there seemed to be a happy-medium between abandoning or killing them and being completely complacent. And in that current state of reasoning, I decided to act on it. I hesitated to speak, but it might be time to muster up the guts to do so. I felt like the two Shadowcales they had the right to hate me with what they knew, just like the traitor, but finally I pushed to words out.

"**Learns-fast**," I finally said. The break in the sleepy silence felt like it made my head vibrate

"**What?**" he grumbled

"**Why**..." Suddenly I realized I didn't know exactly how to phrase the question.

"**Why what?**" He inquired grumpily after a couple of seconds of silence, obviously wanting to get this over with.

"**Why didn't we help the tribals?**" I finally said, but I knew it was a dogmatic statement. Yet I was hesitant to tell him what I'd learned. I was hesitant to hint at my...research.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. I could see agitation on his face. At once I was nervous, rewinding and rushing over my own words for their implications.

"**What could you possibly mean!? What do you think was the purpose of your entire career!?**" He shot back. It hurt me to argue about these sort of things with my family when I previously knew nothing but complacency.

"**Its just they...they don't seem...they don't seem to be getting any better.**" A world of hurt was right beneath the words, and I knew the more I talked the more I risked tears. I began quivering with emotion again. I knew I was 'treading on thin ice' (as the Cyrodiillic expression goes) with his emotions to: his anger. I was choosing my words carefully, giving him more of an opportunity to make statements than me.

"**How could you possibly make that assertion!?**" He asked. I knew how I could, but I was afraid of what he'd do if he found out I'd been reading the very same books that turned "Scar-tail" against us. That was another issue to stress my mind with: whether I should tell him the facts I learned or not.

"**Its just...they aren't living mu...can't we keep them under control and still let them live a bit more like us?"** I said, still dancing around what I really meant, but getting more nervous, and feeling more and more hurt as hate and cynicism flowed amongst my family.

"**Put them in cities?**"He scoffed.

"**I...**"

"**Do you have any idea what happened when Cyrodiil did that!? When they forced them into the cities of the coast? They were endlessly vilified for it by the other provinces!"**

"**That's because they had to kill to do it!" **I protested.

"**And what makes you think we could go about it any differently!?" **He shouted.

There was silence. I really didn't have a good answer for that. He was right...the book I'd read spent as much time vilifying the wars that Cyrodiil fought to annex the coasts as anything else. Yet it wasn't really my point...I was creating fake arguments to get at the truth from another angle.

Finally, after a bit of silence, in an attempt to gain what iota of ground I could from the ruins of my argument, I spoke again.

"**Why didn't you tell me that in training?**" I asked again. I wasn't even sure I was being coherent any more.

"**Tell you what?**" He asked dourly, less focused on inquiry than finishing the argument.

I dodged the question. _Maybe I should just try to confuse him enough he'd just start spewing information_.

"**They...they just seem to be getting worse..." **

"**You haven't been to Argonia in months, and yet you begin to think this now!?" **He shouted, throwing his hands apart in a gesture of outrage.

The internal debate of whether or not to tell him what I'd read still raged on. It was a debate between the fear of repercussions of my research, and the ability to hear his case. There was no real reasoning going on, though, just battling impulses. It was another struggle between two feelings, and might become another struggle between courage and cowardess that constantly added to the burden of my marred existence.

"**I just...**" then I realized, my voice was once again eroded by oncoming tears "**...nevermind.**"

I declined to say more. I'd done nothing but mar my relationship with them further, but I wanted time to regain some of my composure.

I knew that wasn't the end of my inner struggles, even the ones pertaining to this argument. These breath-taking Cyrodiillic landscapes had their adventurous beauty replaced with an alien hideousness, and it saddened me that finally being reunited with my Marsh Brothers only made me feel bitter-loneliness to fill the gap where love should be.

I tried formulating new ways to get the conversation going again, but as much as I pulled my mind to come up with something, it was slow and thoughts were dropping out of mind with every spurt of sleepiness, leaving me with only a yearning to recover their enlightenment like waking from an epic dream

I wanted to see him wash away my suspicions so I could return to some form of happiness. The world was frightening and lonely when I distrusted my own employers. Yet I was nervous about the truth because I was worried he couldn't make his case at all. I was scared of being disappointed.

* * *

A/N: Getting pretty close to the end now. I already finished first the draft of the last chapter, which will be one of many. It may end up being two more chapters to go, if I decide to split the last chapter in two for the sake of suspense. Anyway, I stopped here so I could get any last minute advice before the grand finale. 

Oh, and by the way, once I'm done with this story, I'm probably going to go back on make revisions to earlier chapters based on advice I've gotten over the past months, so even when this story is "finished" there will still be some use for constructive criticism.


	58. Release

A/N: Note this chapter has undergone minor revisions since the release of the final chapter of this story. Note revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and author's notes of unrevised chapters.

Sun's Height 21

(**Fights-up-close**): Near Applewatch

* * *

It was at least a full twenty-four hours since we left Anvil, and now I was here even after all that mind-achingly strenuous internal bickering over how to get out of this situation. Some thoughts were dropping out of my mind in my sleepy, jaded state, but the internal bickering continued none the less. 

My vision seemed to ripple with my fatigue, and I could feel pangs of pain behind my eyes.

Every moment was an arena of two sides of logic, and of courage and cowardess. I tried to think of a way out of this, but with greater and greater frequency, I found myself lost in confusion and indecision.

Already I could see the Applewatch in the distance. This would probably be my last chance to run and disappear into the night.

I tried to think of a way out of this, but seeing that house brought back a series of intense, painful flashbacks.

I clenched my fists, trying to stand my ground at the fierce blast of guilt. I could see my own actions again, clear as day. The stabs. The screams. The terror.

When the memory loosened its grip, my spirit was in rags once more. When the intense pain was gone, all I could was let out a depressed sigh.

As the crickets chirped and cold breeze blew on us I noticed five new protrusion's in the ground on the left of the farm house that definitely were not there last time I visited. Pretty much all of this walk had been weighed down by heavy thoughts, but for once I was curious about something in the outside world. I hadn't even bothered using night eye during this journey, but, for the first time during this day long walk, I did.

With effort, which was becoming an alien concept to my operation in the outside world, I pushed magicka into my eyes.

The farm house became clearer, with its broken stone wall and its rugged, mountainous terrain behind it. I still couldn't make out what those protrusions were, though, even as we get closer to the house.

The house would be a refuge in the cold light, but it was evil's seduction: I knew once I was in there, I'd need to tell Mr. Lachance everything. I knew if I were to escape, this would be the last chance. Yet the three around me were all armed, and no doubt had stores of their own rightful fury.

We ignored the swinging gate, instead stepping through a huge gap in the stone wall, as if this house hadn't been humiliated enough. Now I was so close to the final confrontation with Mr. Lachance I felt sick.

I looked to the left for one last attempt to see a good escape route. Instead, my eyes met with grave stones. Five of them. That's what those protrusions were. One had a sword leaning on it. The Draconises. I felt cold again: colder than the night.

I looked at the gravestones longingly. I felt an odd urge to do something, anything, to pay my respects to dead, but I knew that wouldn't happen. Those graves would just be one more symbol of this melancholy night and all I couldn't do to fix the tragedies I'd created.

I looked back in the direction I was walking to find I'd nearly crashed into the front door.

**Learns-fast **grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him. I hated being touched at a time like this.

In a harsh whisper, he restated my orders. "**You know what you have to do. Wait for the traitor to reveal himself, then kill him."**

I knew what I didn't say to him now I'd never get to say to him.

"**Why didn't you tell me the Imperials made us!?" **I blurted out.

He stood there for a second, stunned and silent. I continued. "**Why didn't you tell me we were their allies until they gave us money and left us alone? Why didn't we try to stop the slave trade!?" **My voice was quivering again with signs of oncoming tears, but I didn't let that get in my way. It was time to settle this once and for all, to let the deepest wounds get inflicted or healed.

The expression on **Learns-fast **was wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, as if he just received a deeper blow than he'd ever expected.

Then, he spoke again, but his tone wasn't like the last time we got into an argument.

"**I...I don't know what kind of insubordination you're trying to pull!" **He said. The passion seemed fake "**You are going to go into that house and destroy the traitor!"**

I found myself quivering with emotion again. The soul-wrenching power of these moments seemed like too much to take.

"**And how do you know I will!?**" I exclaimed. I wondered for a second if I'd crossed too far by hinting at my passive-aggressive intentions.

He pushed my chin up to look at them, and I felt a surge of rage that made me instantly cast his hand aside. I took a step back. I put my hand by my sheath, but didn't dare unsheathe my weapon.

"**If you don't?" **He asked, sounding almost amused. "**Then the Dark Brotherhood falls. Then what, huh?** **Where will you go? What will you do? You can't survive without us, your only life is in our ranks."**

At once I felt very cold again. Those words sounded familiar.

Then I realized I'd heard something like them during my third Dark Brotherhood contract:

_Where will you go, huh? What will you do?" He stopped for a second, as the words sunk into the three of us, with nothing by the crackling torch fire to get in their way "You can't survive out their Dreth, you're an animal. You belong in a cage."_

It was true enough. Once you were an outlaw, it was hard to make a normal life.

I could see now that this was the other side of our motivation. When we didn't care for 'justice', this is what they told us: we needed them. I began to feel sick again.

As I stood there, not sure what to do next, **Learns-fast** lost his patience, grabbed me by my right arm, then swung opened the farmhouse door and pushed me in.

I caught only a brief glimpse of black robes before whipping around to run back out the door, but **Learns-fast** had tightly shut it immediately after I'd been pushed in. The noises I could hear outside seemed to indicate he was locking or blocking it somehow.

I was stuck in here, forced to confront Mr. Lachance. My heart was pounding. I had to think of a lie.

Yet when I turned to face "him", I jumped, startled. I was facing a woman. She was another member of the Black Hand, judging by her attire.[arquen didn't know

"Silencer, at last you've arrived!" She said, her voice filled with a pure and confident sort of happiness "Fear not for the crisis that has threatened the Dark Brotherhood has finally come to an end!" She exclaimed.

This was unexpected, and that meant...hope. There was a spurt of euphoria in the warm house as I saw I might not have to confront Lachance after all. But before I could process the situation any further, she continued, extending her right arm for shaking while her left was tucking something black by her side "I am Arquen, Speaker of the Black Hand." she said, smiling. Her presence seemed oddly...soothing. "As you can see we have dealt with the betrayer, Lucien Lachance! No longer will you serve as his puppet!" She smiled with a sort of spiritual warmth that permeated the area. I wasn't sure what she meant: I couldn't see the rest of the house with her infront of me, but in this case, I would embrace any change from the expected.

Then she harshened her soothing voice "Its seems Lachance wanted revenge against the Dark Brotherhood for some reason, and hired you to do his dirty work!" Lachance was a renegade...I didn't understand it all yet but any deviation what I'd expected to find here made me feel a euphoria pure and true as any. "But now, we can begin anew! I bestow upon you the title of Speaker. You will take Lucien Lachance's place on the Black Hand. Welcome!" She held out something large and black in her left hand. I now realized what it was: neatly folded black robes.

I grabbed them. They were delightfully soft.

She continued, but this time her tone mournful, and her eyes towards the floor. "As you know, the Black Hand is in a state of disarray. Lachance ordered you to kill us off, one by one. We six, including you, are all that remains of the Black Hand." Then she looked back up "Even worse, you killed the Listener! The Black Hand without a Listener is like a hand with no thumb! Even the Listener's successor is dead!" But her voice was not accusing. It was empty of anger. I felt safe and unjudged in this Dark Angel's company. Then she continued with a level-headed excitement "So, we have no choice but to invoke an ancient ritual! We must wake the Night Mother from her slumber and seek her guidance!"

I could feel an excitement start to encroach on me at the words as a fire crackled comfortingly somewhere in the house.

But there was nagging sensation there was something ominous hidden away in those words.

Then it began to come back to me. The traitor was going to kill the Night Mother.

Suddenly I felt a sinking sensation. The decisions were not over, the death was not over, and the betrayal was not over.

Then she continued, but most of her words I tuned out. I only recalled "Take time...change into your new robes and make...minute preparations. Then we will away...home." I nodded, despite that half her words had been drowned out by flash-backs of the traitor's plan and its implications.

Then, as Arquen stepped away, I saw something horrid. A naked body, hanging upside down by its feet, mutilated in the most gruesomely creative ways.

I could feel sickness start to creep up on me at the sight. My skin was crawling.

"_As you can see, we have dealt with the betrayer, Lucien Lachance! No longer will you serve as his puppet."_

Seeing my former master degraded in the deepest way possible, confusion and fear began to flood my mind. My mouth began getting wet as I tried to hold my stomach. It took much concentration to do so.

Arquen pointed a hand, palm up, towards the horrible sight. "When we confronted Lachance he tried to defend himself, tried to declare his innocence, but we would not hear his treacherous lies!" Then, shifting to a sort of gleeful enthusiasm, shot her fist into the air and said "As you can see he was no match for the combined power of the Black Hand, even weakened as we are!"

Trying to hide my shock and show them what they expected, I stepped in a bit closer, in a mix of disturbed repulsion and morbid curiosity. I knew this was all moving too fast. I wasn't meant to advance so quickly, and now I was being exposed to things I simply wasn't ready for. To think that Lachance's soul had once been in that horrifying mess of a human body.

Hell was returning, in a very different form.

What did this all mean, though? I had expected to find Lucien in here alive, waiting to hear what I'd learned about the traitor's identity.

And what did **Learns-fast**'s orders mean now?

"_**You know what you have to do. Wait for the traitor to reveal himself, then kill him."**_

I hadn't taken much meaning from his words at first, but now they seemed to fit perfectly with the scenario at hand. Did he...know this was what I was going to find? I noticed my stomach was aching now, and my breaths had become shallow.

I slowly advanced towards the body.

Suddenly the words of another Speaker caught me off guard. "Greetings, Speaker. I am Belisarius Arius." A man to my left said. I turned to around to see Cyrodiillic looking face, coated with whiskers, smiling subtlety at me. He extended his hand to shake, and I complied, though he did all the shaking.

Then I felt something touch my right shoulder. I turned to see a Dunmer face. His voice had a prominent thick foreign accent "Our troubles are almost at an end, Sister. Soon we will visit the Night Mother and she will surely guide us." They were all gentle and friendly, the Dunmer especially, which was heart-warming after what I'd read about Morrowind. Even in the presence of the gruesome scene, his words seemed oddly effective at comforting me. There was a certain...gentle eloquence about the Black Hand, something that made me feel safe.

But I had to remember I wasn't safe, and I couldn't remain comfortable for long.

I turned to see yet another Speaker who had joined the greeting party. He appeared to be the youngest of the crowd. He shook my hand briskly, but I was starting to get enveloped in my own world of thought as I reflected on all the unexpected occurrences I was witnessing. "Hello, fellow Speaker. I am Mathieu Bellamont! Welcome to the Black Hand! So nice to see you're in one piece!" It felt genuine. Then he pointed to Lachance's body, but I was so lost in thought as he spoke I was only able to recall "You...some time...admire his corpse...a thing...punctures and slashes...poetic."

I remembered Arquen's words: _"We six, including you, are all that remains of the Black Hand."_ There was one more Speaker. I turned to my left.

There was one more figure in Black Hand robes. He was still in a far corner of the room, aloof and looking down.

There were four men here. That meant four potential traitors, but I was already looking at the most likely betrayer.

We were about to go to the Night Mother: it fit with the traitor's plan perfectly. Any dreamy lull in the action would soon be over.

I ached as I remembered I had already pledged to help the traitor. I had to remember the horrors the Dark Brotherhood was built on top of, as painful as it was to know I'd be betraying the only family I ever knew.

I'd give him his revenge, though. I wanted some way to show him I didn't want to step on him any more. It was a depressing thought that it had come to this, but this nightmare couldn't drag on much longer.

I looked around the room for a place of privacy so I could change into my new robes.

**(Learns-fast)**: Near Applewatch

* * *

I knew sleep would feel so good now. For the first time in too long, I could feel content. Even if there was still a lot at stake, it was out of my court now. 

**Fights-up-close** was out off my hands. Her anti-Argonian-Royal-Court rantings made me nervous during our walk to Applewatch, but now that we were done with her I was sure I could convince the others it was just crazy talk. I could finally relax.

"**Where are we going now?**" I heard a voice from behind me ask. It was **Cleaver. **Odd he'd taken so long to ask that question. He'd been silent since I tossed **Fights-up-close** into Applewatch.

"**To bed.**" I stated dryly.

"**In the morning...**" He added in a gravely tone. It was evident that the exhaustion was weighing on him too.

It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what he meant: where would we go after we woke up. Then I realized that even when I understood what he meant, I didn't have an answer.

The fatigue washed away as the dilemma entered my mind.

Obviously **Surveys-from-above** would return to Black Marsh. But what about **Cleaver**? Should he return to the Cheydinhal sanctuary and hope it would get reoccupied? No...that seemed ridiculous. Besides, I'd had enough of the Dark Brotherhood for a while.

"**We're going back to Gideon**." I said.

We continued to walk down the path. It had been a tough day, but in some ways it was nice to shake things up a bit. Hell was repetition, and repetition was what I had when I had been trailing Lachance with anger dammed up inside me, waiting for him to do mess up. The more I remembered the weeks I'd spent trailing Lucien, the less guilt I felt about my decision to make the Black Hand believe he was the traitor. Now I was feeling mix of hearty exhaustion and satisfaction as the crickets chirped and the stars shined all over the clear night sky.

Then I heard some unexpect words from **Surveys-from-above "Wait, both of us?"** He asked after the mysteriously long delay. It took me a few second to figure out what he meant, but then I remembered my previous statement (**"We're going back to Gideon"**)

"**Yes.**" I said firmly.

"**Are you sure that's what **Mr. Lachance **wants?**" He asked.

"**Yes.**" I stated again.

Yet as I remembered **Surveys-from-above** and **Cleaver** still thought Lucien was alive, other ideas were starting to creep into my head to bring down my mood. They would wonder what happened to Lachance. Even in Black Marsh they saw Lachance on a roughly monthly basis for the sake of training. I froze a bit after the epiphany hit me. I couldn't keep what I'd done secret forever.

Then I continued to walk, but now my mood was significantly soured and my thoughts were starting to speed up again. I realized my stress wasn't over. When the Dark Brotherhood found out what I did they would...who knew what they would do? Whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

I could feel my heart rate increase even though I tried to appear unphased. I was beginning to feel sick again.

They had seen Lachance vindicated. They thought I had told the Black Hand of Lucien's innocence. If Lachance was gone, they would be suspicious, and soon the Argonian Royal Court and Dark Brotherhood would begin to piece together what I'd done.

I was worn out by internal conflict and I imagined the ecstacy I could get by just going into denial. But no, I couldn't make the same mistake again and follow short-term satisfaction. That would dig the pit further.

As we got closer to the city, I wracked my brain for some way to cover this up, but made no progress. It was just like those mind-aching times right after we'd left Bravil.

I still couldn't imagine how to cover-up or justify my behavior.

Then it hit me**: Surveys-from-above** and **Cleaver **needed to die.

Now I saw there was a solution, but I almost wished I didn't have any options. I ached at the thought of it: the difficulty of pulling this off safely, and the loss of two good agents after so many days of eagerness to bring them back would be hard, but it was the only way I knew to cover up my deeds and finally see the end of this mess. Both of those Shadowscales needed to die.

It seemed like it would take an extraordinary amount of willpower, but I knew that was all that was standing in my way. Willpower.

I felt a surge of pain as I realized how much I'd lost which I expected to gain. I once expected to have all three Shadowscales, **Fights-up-close**, **Cleaver**, and **Surveys-from-above,** back in my service: now I would have none.

I hated that little traitor **Goes-in-heavy** for putting me through this, and I hated Lachance for provoking me like this, but I never got the opportunity to kill either of those two. I was only getting the opportunity to kill two useful agents.

I hated this situation, but I knew I just had to do it. If only they weren't following behind me, then I could surely catch at least one off guard and make an easy kill.

There had to be someway I could pull this off without a serious risk of my own death. They were conditioned to trust me to no end, after all, whether or not that conditioning worked.

We continued to walk and I knew my window of opportunity was shrinking, but murder was an art as much as a science, so one couldn't rush it. I had to wait for a stroke of genius to come to my mind that could allow me to pull this off safely. If I didn't employ any sort of intelligent tactic to give me an advantage, I would definitely lose. I ached under the demands of the situation.

I felt frustrated at the barriers sleep put infront of my full cognitive potential as some thoughts fell out of my mind as I tried to plan. I felt useless in this state, but I needed to think of something before we got closer to Bruma. This was the best circumstance for murder I'd get: I was outside city walls in the least popular part of Cyrodiil, there was a steep slope to throw the bodies down to my right, and it was nighttime.

But now that we were so close to Bruma I was afraid these circumstances would soon end.

I stopped in my tracks. There was silence. The Shadowscales had stopped too. I turned to them, my mind still turbulent as this went, having no time to analyze the plan I'd formulated in a couple of seconds.

"**You two wait here. I want to check on Applewatch one last time**." I said, then started walking back the way I came.

_Walk a long way back, then sneak up on them._

_No, they'll hear you coming back, turn around and kill them now._

_Kill them now? You don't even have a plan._

Either way, by now it was too late to turn back. I was too far away to execute the plan of simply turning around and killing them. In a way I was relieved that I couldn't make that decision. The word 'decision' seemed to have a whole new connotation for me now. If there was one word to describe my anguish, "decision" was it. I just kept walking.

_Head all the way back to Applewatch, then turn around and start sneaking. _

_What makes you possibly think you could sneak up on them!? You don't have their training, their powers, or their equipment, and even they would have trouble with this type of task!_

The coarseness and weight of life was coming back. Just when I'd acknowledged contentness, there was more tension and stress.

_Shut up! You've already made your decision! Now is your time to plan! Your life depends on it. You'll be killed if you're not careful._

_You'll be killed if you try this at all!_

_Just make your way to Applewatch first, keep your word._

The stress lifted. That was one more decision I could eliminate for now.

I continued towards Applewatch through the chilly night air. I passed familiar rocks and trees. I tried to imagine what the two Shadowscales were doing now, what they were thinking.

I just wanted to prolongue this stage of mellowness, because I knew once I got to Applewatch, I'd have to make my hardest decision yet. It may have been the last feeling of relaxation I'd ever get.

I noted every little intricacey of the world as I walked, trying to get the same kind of enjoyment out of it one could get looking at a fine painting, noticing the details. The sparkling stars, the waving pine needles, and the towering mountains.

But as I pushed my mind to appreciate these things, I only got brief feelings of pleasure before my mood sunk to compensate. The odds were against anything good happening in this situation, and pleasure here and now only reminded me that pain would be the next thing ahead.

Applewatch was already coming into view. Soon the turbulence would begin again. I could already feel encroaching discomfort.

My life had become so different it was hard to even recognize anymore. I'd killed my partener in the Shadowscale pact, I'd come to fear my inferiors, and I wasn't even sure if the seemingly invincible organization I'd work with my whole life could even survive the night. I wasn't ready to operate in this new world; I'd had decades to become accustomed to my old world.

When I made it to the gates of Applewatch, I turned around.

The decision I was making hit me with crushing force once again. This is what my life had come to.

The path ahead was shadowed, and its dirt was soft, but there was still so much to be afraid of. I could be plunging myself into something scarier than I ever faced: death.

_But it doesn't need to happen. Let them live. Let go of these aggressive notions. Relax for another day. _

_Relax? You'll live in fear of the Black Hand if those Shadowscales live!_

I didn't know if the turbulence would ever end, so I decided to start sneaking back in their direction. I'd be forced to make my decision soon enough

I recalled the Shadowscales I'd watch Lucien Lachance train. I tried to recall all the times I'd watched **Hides-in-shadows, Stabber, Climbs-out-of-sight, **or **Fights-up-close **creeping along, imitating what Lucien showed them, while I sat back and made sure things stayed orderly. They had been trained to do those kind of careful foot falls since they were five years old, and I had watched countless times; Surely I'd learned something from all that time too.

I tried to simply focus on this task, and tried to block out the life-marring circumstances that made it necessity. I continued to creep, attempting the grace of a Shadowscale.

But once I attained some degree of confidence in my stealth abilities, the harshness of my objective came back to me with avengance. I felt a surge of fury at the circumstances that made me want to tare the nearest object to shreds at my misfortune. But I knew the fury was pain _masking _itself as an urge. I could only get satisfaction from destroying the abstract concepts which brought me to this point, and that could never happen.

The tree branches hung over me like demonic fingers. The mountains in the distance were like overbearing monsters. The vast night-sky symbolized my sense of loneliness.

The crickets still cherped, the stars still shined, and branches still waved in the breeze. To them, it was still the same world. To me, those were all components to construct a base for suffering.

_I was so close now...so close to..._

I didn't even want to repeat my objective in my thoughts. _How could I ever have seen the situation I'm in coming? How could I have known **Goes-in-heavy** would defect? How could I have known Lachance would refuse to sanction a contract to kill him? How could I have known I'd end up killing two loyal Shadowscales?_ Another surge of fury came, telling me to quit the graceful sneaking and do something completely irrational. But I held it in.

I continued to sneak. I knew they'd be in view soon.

The pines rustled with another breeze.

Then I could see them again. They were both facing away from me, **Surveys-from-above** with his hands in his pockets. It looked like they were talking, but not fully facing each other.

I side-stepped to get behind a piece of shubbery, afraid they might turn around and see me.

I put my eyes close to the leaves so I could peer through the tiny spaces between them. The Shadowscales continued to talk, but I couldn't make out the conversation.

I had been stealthy. I was observing someone else's world, just like they did. Now I was ready.

_But now...now is the time for my decision._

I could walk out casually, bring the day to a mellow end, shunning my more radical side. I could return to Argonia and live the rest of my days hoping that the issues with Lucien were simply dead and buried. If I was lucky, I could continue my career fully staffed and carry out my work as usual. If I was unlucky, I would one day find myself robbed of the comforts of the Argonian Royal Court, living as a lonely and pathetic fugitive or prisoner.

Or I could creep up, get close, and then rip through the calm and quiet of the night. If I was lucky, in several seconds I could snuff out the last traces of the crisis. I could return to the Argonia washed clean and fresh, living in certainty. If I was unlucky, the night would end with the feeling of cold metal puncturing and slicing my organs: I would be killed by those I'd raised, who I was once sure I had in the palm of my hand.

Both options brought me fear. But in that moment, the right choice seemed clear.

(**Fights-up-close**): Bravil

* * *

It was the first time I'd teleported. I could really feel the climate change as I found myself in Bravil's humid night air. I knew the ending to all this wouldn't be pleasant, but I was willing to show I truly wasn't like the rest. That brought up a lot of questions, but at least I knew I wouldn't have to wonder any longer. 

"Behold the Night Mother." Arquen said, as she pointed a hand to the familiar statue. "The locals call this statue the Lucky Old Lady. They have no idea how lucky they really are, for this stone effigy masks the entrance into the Dark Brotherhood's most revered unholy – the crypt of the Night Mother herself." She said the words meticulously, subtly conveying their significance.

_Ungolim, the Listener, this statue, the Night Mother. _It all made sense now.

I stared at the statue. Now even that statue had been enveloped by this nightmare as it dragged through Cyrodiil.

"In a moment, we will begin. I will recite an incantation, and we can proceed down into the crypt and seek an audience with the Night Mother." She said, her tone oddly casual, a light smile on her face which glowed orange in her torch light. I didn't bother to return the smile. I was feeling so sick of all this.

"I know this is very overwhelming, dear child. Just follow along and you'll be fine. Now lets go see what the future hold, shall we?" She said in a motherly sort of way. I really did feel like a child here; I needed to be dragged along, I was confused and sacred, and this was moving too fast. I was out of my league, seeing things I wasn't prepared for.

As Arquen walked towards the statue I continued to reflect on all I'd seen. Now that I was in the Black Hand, it felt like I was working for a different organization.

Arquen's collected and motherly image seemed to be shattered as I saw her fall to her knees before the statue and clench her fists as if in prayer. Now she presented herself as insignificant and submissive as she recited the incantation.

"Unholy matron, we of the Black Hand beseech you, reveal yourself now most magnificent Night Mother, so that we may seek your guidance."

I saw the statue warping. An illusion of fatigue? No. The statue twisted and contorted, going from silky eloquence to grotesque deformity. With it, I thought I could hear a horrible sort of scream, too alien to pin to a body but terrifying enough to easily pin to an emotion. It was on the threshold of audible, but none the less hideous, like something produced within my own mind. This was what those tiers of our power-structure-pyramid hid. Immediately I felt like I was submerged in a hell that the friendliness of the Black Hand bared hideous contrast to. This was the horror behind the honor.

But the disturbing display had a practical purpose: a hatch was revealed at the foot of statue. Arquen got to her feet and opened it, then positioned herself as if climbing down an unseen ladder. The rest of the Black Hand members also began walking towards it, single-file.

I let all of them go ahead of me. I felt no more urge to be quick or assertive than I did during the trip to Bruma. I was just here as fodder for the traitor's revenge.

As I waited for everyone else to pile in, I thought about how different the Dark Brotherhood felt now. First it was about justice, then it was about darkness, then about the unholy. Maybe if I had advanced at normal speed the change would have been so gradual I wouldn't notice, but I didn't advance at normal speed, did notice the change, and probably wasn't supposed to. I wondered if I would have changed too. I'd seen just how fragile my own mind was recently.

When they were all down below the statue, I walked towards the hatch. I tensed at the thought of the acute pain and discomfort when the traitor's blade would sink into me, but I felt like my deeds were inflicting physical blows on me on their own, and at least any pain the traitor could cause me was finite.

I looked down the hatch to see a weathered wooden ladder. It lead a short distance down to a floor of sand and rock.

I positioned myself and climbed down the ladder. As I climbed, the hatch shut by its self. I could see orange torchlight bathing the rocky "walls" and sandy "floor" of the almost liquid looking interior. I could hear a female voice, sounding super-naturally distorted, as I climbed.

"What is the meaning of this...desecration? Who has disturbed my ancient slumber?" She was outraged. I'd been almost desensitized to scorn and hatred already, and soon all that kind of pain would start spilling out and ravaging the Black Hand.

As my feet touched the sand I turned to see a ghostly figure of a woman. Arquen was facing her. Ahead, there was some kind of altar, with a skeleton laid on top of it.

Arquen, her eyes glassy, pleaded "Dearest Night Mother, most unholy matron! We beg your mercy in this our time of need!"

"Ah yes," the Night Mother said with a tone that was both cold and harsh, all my reverence for her now completely rubbed out "the Listener now kneels by Sithis, as does his successor. There is a traitor amongst you."

"The traitor is dead, dear Night Mother. Anoint one of us your Listener so we may restore the Black Hand!" She pleaded. I knew she'd made a mistake when she corrected the Night Mother. This situation was going to explode in more ways than one.

"Foolish little girl!" The Night Mother scoffed with disgust "Lucien Lachance served Sithis to his dying _breath_! The Black Hand remains tainted by betrayal! Restoration is impossib– "

Her rant was cut short. Before the Night mother could finish, there was a thud and a cry of pain from somewhere behind us. As we turned around to look, I saw one of the Speakers lying face-on-the-floor. There was an expanding bloody spot on his black robes as he released one last muffled grown. His torch was on the ground, still burning. Mathieu Bellamont was constraining the Dunmer Speaker, a knife to his throat, already soaked in the blood of the other victim.

Mathieu. That was surprising. Just like before, I had been deceived. Once again, my old perceptions were washed away and replaced with surreal new ones.

Mathieu's hand was noticeably shaking. I knew what had been building in him for all these years. It was actually a relief to finally see him snap after reading his diary.

"Enough of this. You will all suffer for the pain you have caused me." His voice quivered, as the disturbing memories I'd read about were once again floating through the air. There was a moment of stoney silence as we awaited any potential demands. My breaths were shallow and my muscles tensed as I listened closely.

It was difficult to estimate how long that intense waiting went on, but it seemed even Mathieu realized there was nothing he could hope to get from demands, because he only wanted one thing: revenge.

Shying away from any attempt to adequately capture his hatred in his words, he simply said "I will destroy your Night Mother, and the Dark brotherhood will fall!"

Mathieu gave the 'hostage' one last look, a look of utter disgust, before savagely slitting his throat and throwing him to the ground as if eager to rid himself of his foul body. The Dunmer made what little noise he was capable of as his blood dyed the sands of the crypt.

Now, I was wondering who would be next. My muscles tightened as I prepared myself for my last moments, imagining the pain and discomfort that would await me, but concentrating hard on not fighting back. I didn't care about the loyal members of the Black Hand, though: I was in my own world.

But before I could reflect anymore I could see he was not charging at me. He was charging at the Night Mother. Thoughts rushed through my head. _Can he really kill her? What if she dies? Will anyone intercept him?_

Then, in a blur the traitor was put to a stop.

Bellamont had been stabbed. Arquen withdrew her dagger from Bellamont's back as he fell forward, his face in the sand like the others, right at the feet of the Night Mother.

I was still alive. The room was filled with silence as the shock sank into all of us; the Black Hand was down to three, myself included, and an attempt to murder the Night Mother had just been foiled. And, incidentally, I had been wrong about who I'd assumed was the traitor.

Now the traitor was at peace, and I could find comfort in that, but I was still deep in a nightmare. That, and the traitor had failed, which I hadn't expected.

Yet only two more lives stood in the way of the total destruction of the Black Hand.

"So, at last we find peace." The Night Mother said, as if unphased by all the brutal carnage around her. I was really growing to hate her. "Together you three shall make the thumb and finger of my Black Hand. Enough to pinch and grasp, so we may begin a new."

She turned to her left, towards the aloof Speaker who I'd originally suspected of treachery. "You, Champion, once blinded by the searing light of the Gods, you saw their wrongs and came to heed our teachings. You gave us knowledge no one in our history could!" She exclaimed "You will let us pierce deep into the hearts of our enemies! You will be my new Speaker, to spread our unholy word to all murders who might be our recruits."

Champion? Light of the Gods? That was a deep, discouraging blow for the world. Tamriel's greatest hero was in the Black Hand? No. I was jumping to conclusion. "Champion" was a respectful term for a hero in this language. The odds were...

"You, Arquen," she said with a sort of enticing voice as if her anger had never occurred "You will be my Listener. You have managed your sanctuary well, brought in more murders than any other Speaker, and traveled across Tamriel endlessly in my service!"

Then, the Night Mother turned to me. I was the farthest from the crowd, disconnected spiritually and physically, not eager to partake in the ceremony. She began to walk in my direction. I was staring right at a deity, but all my respect for her had been ebbed away. Being in her presence would have been a fantasy a couple of months ago, but now it was a nightmare. Now she was the symbol of what I would fight.

She stopped infront of me.

"And you," she said, with a quiet fascination in her voice, her words gentle like Arquen's "I have been following your strange journey through the Dark Brotherhood, young one. Your killing of the old man Baenlin...the execution of Adamus Philida...the way you stalked and murdered every member of the Draconis family." I could feel myself getting sick as the thoughts began to creep up on me again. "You will be the Silencer to Speaker Arquen. You possess strength and cunning and a heart as black as midnight!" She said excitedly. _You don't know me._ "You were marked by Sithis the moment of your hatching!"

I quivered. I felt filthy here, in this crypt, hearing these words. I was being treated like a monster. And why not? I had acted like one.

I still felt that guttural pity, that strong connection to the traitor again. The cruelty of his situation was as solid as any. And now, just two more lives and I could end this nightmare for everyone. I just needed one more burst of fury and then I might never feel fury again. A bit more fighting and there would be no more Dark Brotherhood.

"Silent?" The Night Mother asked "Good, for now is the time to m–"

"No." I interrupted, the eroded words clawing their way out of the heavy thoughts that lay on top of them. My hand began quivering more violently than ever. I had done horrible things, but this was the chance for redemption. This was the time to continue the fight of the martyrs like Bellamont, **Goes-in-heavy** and Philida. I would proudly stand by them in spirit. Now the pain of the recent days was resurfacing, but so was my old, confident battle spirit.

"What have you said to me!?" The Night Mother asked in a voice coarsened in fury.

"No," I repeated slightly louder "I'm finishing his job!"

I quickly and passionately unsheathed my dagger with a feeling of infinite energy. I ripped off my facade of a loyal Dark Sister. Now I could feel my troubles float away because they were converted into an objective.

I charged at Arquen, knowing I'd never be able to fully express the destructive passion within me. The cause was flowing through every fiber of my consciousness.

I tried to stab hard into her chest, but Arquen was ready. She knocked my arm aside, and attempted a stab of her own. I arched my back to avoid it then instinctually changed tactics and delivered a punch to her face, focused on little more than letting the destructive power flow out of me with as few interruptions as possible.

I tried to stab her while she was still somewhat stunned, but her left hand intercepted my right hand. She attempted the same, but I intercepted her hand as well. We had come to a furious stalemate. Being held still for even a second multiplied my fury. I didn't fear this fight: I would gladly spill blood, even if it was mine, but it was being held back that I couldn't take.

Digging my feet into the sands of the crypt, knowing this battle would change everything not just for me, but for the world, I did my best to push her back, hopefully getting her to stumble along the way. But as I did I became conscious of the danger that lay behind me; I figured "Champion" would try to do something.

Two potential outcomes rushed through my head. Either I would be feeling the acute discomfort of cold metal in me, or the last of the Black Hand would be killed and the world would be liberated from stomach-turning crimes it committed.

Her face was contorted in all sorts of ways as she tried to put up some kind of resistance, but it didn't work. I was ever so slightly stronger physically, and worlds stronger in purpose, and was pushing her back. Soon, she would stumble over the steps to the altar on which the skeletons lay.

Then, she did stumble on the steps. She fell back, and I fell forward, but her head hit the stone with a sharp crack and a grimace on her face, unlike me. My fury was leaving its mark, and it felt good to have a real cause again. Her grip didn't loosen, but I didn't waste an instant that could be put to use of releasing my destructive energy.

I put all I could into pushing my dagger forward while keeping her's back, and slowly it was working. Slowly the suffering they'd inflicted was coming back to them by my own hand. There was light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. Just one more surge of pain and suffering on their part for the world to finally bask in light.

But as my knife got inches away from her throat, she released her grip, then rolled away in a flash. The move threw me off. All the strength I was putting into slowly moving my dagger towards her throat now came out uninhibited, causing me to stab knife into the stone.

My fury grew greater with the failure. Any success on her part was an affront to me.

I sprung up and threw my arm almost blindly in Arquen's direction.

This time, there was a different kind of resistance.

I'd stabbed her. The awkward twisting motion I'd used to get the quick stab forced me to fall with her and let go of the dagger that was now lodged in her back, but it was probably a kill. We both fell onto the coarse, sandy crypt floor. I immediately got up, eager to continue to fight, my heart pounding, heat and the smell of sweat in the air around me. I could feel some burning from the scrapes against my scales, but I ignored the interruption to my fury as best I could. One more Speaker.

Oddly, though, the Speaker's sword was sheathed. The Night Mother stood staring at me.

"Fool! What are you possibly trying to accomplish!?" she said, her voice seething with fury "With us you could have had riches! You could have had infamy!" She advanced a bit, ghostly fists clenched. Could she even punch? As I seethed with outrage, quivering and eager to get back into battle, she stared at me as if expecting something. Then, after a couple of seconds, she whipped her head towards the last Brother "Kill her!" She demanded. He jerked slightly as if surprised. None the less he reached for his weapon.

I realized my blade was still in Arquen's back.

I backed up, grappling briefly with my balance, then tried to bend down to pick the dagger up. Without the dagger, I was totally hopeless.

Yet as I reached for the dagger, I felt a sharp gust of win by my hand, and a flash of shiny metal. For a split second, I wondered if my fingers had been cut off. But no, it was just a very close call.

I back-flipped to get more distance and lower the probability of a slightly closer swing hitting me, but when I was on my feet again, I could see he was advancing with obvious, blunt, and brutal dominance gained out of nothing more than the weapon in his hand. I could easily imagine his katana cutting through me. That long, thin piece of metal made him unstoppable under the current circumstances. A feeling of hellish terror began to envelope me.

I pushed the Shadow energy to the surface of scales. I knew I was completely invisible, but that didn't stop his terrible charge. Two instincts battled: one was to try to move away as fast as possible, the other was to keep hold of the Shadow energy by not doing so.

I managed to turn around to face the ladder behind me without shaking off the Shadow energy, then with a degree of extraordinary grace necessary to stay invisible, I grabbed the highest wrung of the ladder I could reach and pulled myself up. I curled my legs as high as I could. Blood seemed to rush to my head to a bursting point and I was quivering with the strenuous grip, but I'd made it, and managed to keep the Shadow energy despite the circumstances. I knew it took a rare Shadow to pull of a feat like that.

Then I heard a swoosh and a blast of wind below me, no doubt the last Speaker taking a swing at my previous position

"Think of who you're dealing with! You don't stand a chance!" He said, though it sounded more like an expression of frustration than self-satisfaction.

My face was feeling hot as I continued to strain my muscles to stay up there, and I knew I couldn't hide for long, so I ungrasped the wooden rungs and sprung backwards.

Then I was in the air, looking down at the hood of this mysterious fighter, sinking towards the ground.

When I was almost to the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck. My legs gave way when I landed, so we both fell to the ground. I was on the bottom, and I was received most of the pain from the impact, but I had him by the throat, even if bare-handed.

I tried to wack his legs with my tail, grasping at any opportunity for destruction that presented itself. It resulted in limited success, but that wouldn't kill him. I grasped his throat hard in a choke-hold.

But a second later there was an odd sensation sending shockwaves throughout my body as his body glowed like lightening. During the intense and painful sensation I released my grasp without realizing it. He rolled to the left and stabbed his sword into the sandy ground to prop himself up.

I rolled in the opposite direction, but when I tried to get up I found myself tossed around by my own momentum. I was stumbling backwards. I might be feeling cold steel in my gut any second. While still hunched over, the back of my head made harsh contact with the cavern walls. The impact caused me to jerk forward, followed by an intense pain. I nearly fell on my stomach. I supported myself with one irritated palm, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the Champion's legs.

I knew by the time I stood, he would be ready to cleave me. I knew I couldn't get away with another roll. I knew I would lose.

My spirit fell, and another sensation started to envelope me. I began to feel a horrible sinking feeling. I didn't know what the afterlife brought. It was a terrible feeling, yet...I knew I should make this easier for both of us.

Instead of getting up, I let myself fall back to the ground, the back of my neck intentionally exposed.

My eyes in my hands, I waited in blackness for the final moment. I wondered if I'd feel any pain, or if I'd feel my world deteriorate into an incoherent mess for the split second it would take my brain to lose its functionality, or if it would all be over instantly. And would I find myself in the Void? Would I be in Sithis' favor? Obviously no one lives to tell the tale of what the last moments are like.


	59. Forever

Sun's Height 21

(**Fights-up-close**): Night Mother Crypt

* * *

But the grueling suspense was ended with words. 

"You understand and strive for justice, you operate with courage, and yet you learned to welcome death." It was a deep voice, speaking feebly, but with a trace amount of promise. "Maybe you can truly understand and aid our cause."

Quivering violently, I lifted my face from my hands, seeing color and experiencing that which I thought I'd never again experience. I could see the legs of the black robed man.

"We knew the traitor's intentions and identity long before this incident. We allowed him to eliminate most of the Black Hand for us, leaving only bare essentials: it was the best way to make room for new leadership that could restore our organization to its original purpose." A metallic tingling ran through my face and arms at the words. They knew all along?

He took a deep breath, pausing briefly, as if he was trying to think of how to put everything in his head into words. He obviously wasn't ready to explain this. Various parts of my body were burning from scrapes as he spoke, and tears from various emotions were whelling up in my eyes, but I was entranced by his words.

"Champion, don't waste your time! Kill her!" I heard the Night Mother cry, but her voice sounded more...distant now. It was obvious she was trying to yell, but she sounded oddly quiet. The Champion was between us. He seemed to ignore her.

"I was to take the position of Speaker, a recruiter, to recruit leadership which fit our goals. " But the words weren't that of a crisp briefing I was used to hearing from my superiors, there was some despair or emptiness behind them "You and Arquen were kept alive to ensure we could buy time to meet this goal. You would have been disposed of once we found more suitable replacements, replacements like-minded to us." He paused briefly "Over time, the Dark Brotherhood has become convoluted almost beyond recognition. Its members have become motivated by greed, sadistic satisfaction, and sometimes superficial justice. We sought to restore our old ways, old motivations, and old philosophies. The Night Mother called on me to the aid in this task. Mathieu Bellamont aided our cause without realizing it." The epiphany began to seep into every crevice of my consciousness. My heart was pounding. I feared all that was being laid onto me.

"We have no time for this! Kill her!" The Night Mother called again, but this time her voice seemed even more distant.

"You, of course, know nothing of our old ways. They've been almost completely erased from our history and ethos. Our organization was hijacked, but we originally established ourselves with one sole purpose: to reverse the mistake of creation. Much as the Morag Tong, our predecessor, attempted to calculate killings to prevent long term bloodshed, we attempted the opposite in our early days in order to bring us closer to our ultimate goal. Vigilante murders, attempting to select those perpetrating injustice, provide only a temporary and superficial solution to injustice. Often the dedication they would take to pull off would only create more injustice than it put a stop to."

I knew I was on the verge of tears again, facing a hard, transforming truth. The Speaker let out another ragged sigh as if his life was drenched in pain, and to hear these philosophies made that pain contagious. I was opening an old wound: painful philosophy. After the pause for thought, he continued "The existence of Nirn's inhabitants allows for good to go unrewarded and evil to go unpunished, nature's defaults. You know your heros for their suffering, and your villains for their gain. We can't remove this system from Mundus, as government throughout the eras have tried to do. We can only remove people from this system that perpetuates injustice."

"Why would Sithis create a world only for us to destroy it!?" I protested, the pain evident in my voice, as I propped myself up slowly, now on my hands and knees.

"Sithis was never a creator. That alone may be the greatest symbol of the Dark Brotherhood's convolution." He stated, sounding neither angry nor confident, just empty "Sithis is the void. Non-existence. Stillness." Then he let out a ragged sigh. I was hurt by his words, and the rush I'd gained from being able release my fury on Arquen was slowly dissipating. I hated his _words_, but I couldn't hate _him_. He was making too much sense for me to think he didn't believe what he was preaching. "The Nine Divine are most widely recognized as our creators here, but I question the truth of this due to my own experiences. What the Mythic Dawn leader, Mankar Camoran, had shown me during the Oblivion Crisis makes me question the legitimacy of the Nine Divines." The Oblivion Crisis. Suddenly a coldness prickled across half my body. This was the indeed the Champion of Cyrodiil "With the help of Mehrunes Dagon, he demonstrated a power far greater than that of the Nine. He created his own plane, one of constant suffering, which would be the world today if Mehrunes Dagon's invasion was not stopped. He told me the Gods were but passing shadows. I--"

"Champion! Now!" I heard the Night Mother yell, but it sounded even more distant yet again.

"I don't know if he was right, but one thing became clear to me during my time fighting: the Nine Divines understood our betrayal would come if we had the appropriate revelations about the nature of our world. They forced mortality on us to ensure no one person could obtain a significant amount of power or knowledge. We reproduce to ensure they will always have subjects, but our short life-spans prevent most from attaining crucial wisdom. If they are our creators, they are well aware any wise mortal would betray their work. If they are indeed passing shadows, we will eventually find ourselves in a world similar to that which Mankar Camoran prepared if our souls remain on Nirn. Our fate af–"

There was a blast of cold air, and a white glow coming from behind the Champion. His eyes closed tightly in a look of intense anguish, but he didn't utter a word before his body, completely stiff, tipped forward. I stumbled away to avoid it landing on top of me.

There was a noise almost like broken glass as his face hit the floor.

The Night Mother stood facing me.

She was now glowing brightly. I could clearly read her face, and it said one thing: fury. When she spoke, she no longer sounded distant. "I've waited over a millennium for the moment I could remove the convolution and restore our order! Mercenaries like Gogron Gro-Bolmog. Sadists like Arquen. Short-sighted traitors like you!" She screamed. Then she drew in an uneven, unnatural breath, as if to cool herself as she boiled "I can wait another millennium if need be. I may have lost the Black Hand, but that doesn't mean I'll let you intrude on my sacred rest and live!"

The two Black Hand members were gone, but that didn't mean I was going to live.

She lifted her hands in a casting motion. In my emotional disorientation the only appropriate action I could think of was to try to survive and see how it played out.

I knew I would soon meet with the same spell that killed the Champion if I didn't move

I fiercely sprung away, landing roughly once again on the coarse floor. As I looked towards her from my position on the ground, I noticed she was lifting her hands again...but something had changed. She had noticeably faded from a few seconds ago.

Trying to occupy every second with some kind of movement as I was locked in a very tight-battle with death, I rolled away from the next spell, feeling a painfully chilly blast of air, but knowing it was not a direct hit.

Thoughts of life and death were rushing through my head and my heart was pounding as I clumsily and rapidly propped myself up. I ran, half-hunched over, just trying to keep moving. I could feel the wind I'd generated cooling the sweat soaked parts of my body, but I didn't know if this would be to any avail.

I heard the sound of another frost spell, and found myself running into the white glow. She was trying to lead me, and in a clumsy conflict of momentum and will, I tried to stop myself. I accidently fell onto my back.

Light-headed panic beginning to seep in, I gave the Night Mother another look. She was drastically more faded than the last time I saw her. She was barely visible, but still clearly there.

I rolled once again to avoid another frost projection, feeling another blast of chilly air. But I was still alive. None the less, I felt faint as I wondered how long I could keep this up.

I looked towards the Night Mother again, prepared to squirm even more in my awkward struggle for survival.

But there was no Night Mother to see.

I stumbled to my feet, still cautious. I nearly fell again, but managed to stop myself by gripping a stalagmite.

Still silent. The site of so much terror and tension had quieted.

My heart was still racing, and the drive to move was still within me, and I felt noticeably hotter than before. Still, all I could see were the corpses. The Night Mother seemed to have disappeared.

Peace. The site of so much carnage was finally quiet. I was covered in cold sweat and quivering, still shaken, but the danger was gone. The Night Mother was gone. The battle and carnage was nothing but memories now. It seemed almost dreamy.

I realized what had happened: she had expended the power of her existence in the spell, power which she gained from the souls of the dead. Had...the last of her been cast away in that final spell or had she gone back into her ancient slumber? What did that even mean?

I sat quivering in the silence for moment, the power of the recent events was still in me even when I knew that death and destruction was over. I was still shaken, but it seemed like I could finally relax. I was left to reflect in the stoney silence.

I wasn't quite ready to relax, but I slowly lowered myself into a sitting position. Silence still.

I finally allowed myself to loosen up a bit, letting my tail sink onto the cold sands of the crypt.

The fires of the dead Speaker's torch continued to crackle rhythmically. Finally this crypt of so many horrors was peaceful.

I sat there taking in all the sensations of life, while those around my lied in death. I knew it would take a while to get my mind back to normal after the recent intensity, so I was unsure what to do.

I slowly propped myself up with a quivering arm and stood, in bloody and tattered robes, looking at the five dead bodies.

No one would ever know it, but I had made history in my own, quiet way.

Slowly, the tension and pain was fading, being replaced with a sense of calm and satisfaction.

With nothing better in mind, I decided to take a closer look at this odd little place under Bravil now that its evil seemed to have been vanquished.

I walked over to the altar on which the skeleton was to get a closer look.

I realized there were actually several skeletons lying on the stone slab. Only one was the size of an adult, though. It was the brutality of the Dark Brotherhood in a nutshell, yet it was empty of horror now.

I walked up the couple of stone steps to get a closer look.

I felt an urge to look over my shoulder, getting the feeling I was observing something I shouldn't. Of course, there were still only the corpses in my company.

I examined the skeletons closely, each with its own dumb grin. It would have been a hellish scene before I conquered this kind of evil, but I knew I was finding more peace now than I ever had before in Cyrodiil.

Then I noticed something about the largest skeleton. There was something inside the skull: something organic looking. A brain. It looked intact from what I could see through the eye-sockets.

That was a definite anomaly. Was there a connection between the evil here, and that mysterious skeleton? It seemed logical to assume it was what allowed this place to be unlike the others, because it itself was a strange sight.

I decided I should destroy it. I'd destroyed the Black Hand, afterall, and if there was so much evil here, I might as well not even allow for even a trace probability of it resurfacing.

I knew there were plenty of rocks on the crypt floor, so I turned around to survey the crypt floor for one. Most of them were little bigger than a pebble, but I spotted one of a promising size right between two bodies.

Stretching my legs and walking on the tips of my toes to step over a body, I bent over to pick up the rock.. I turned back to the skeleton and stepped over the body again, rock now in hand.

I walked up the two steps to the altar once again.

Tension was welling up as I stared down at the skull. Was this what maintained the Night Mother, the deity I'd revered for over a decade? If that was true, I knew this would be a hugely deciding moment for the world. Questions began racing through my mind, because I knew this action could have permanent, colossal effects and the words of the Champion made me feel unsure about everything.

I looked over my shoulder one last time. Still no one.

I had time to think. I began reflecting on all I'd heard today.

"**Where will you go? What will you do? You can't survive without us, your only life is in our ranks.**"

Maybe he was right, but I'd already seen lives destroyed by the Dark Brotherhood. It would be selfish not to sacrifice my own to put a stop to this. But those weren't the words that worried me the most.

"The Nine Divines understood our betrayal would come if we had the appropriate revelations about the nature of our world."

His words were heavy, yet I knew nothing of the Nine Divines. I did know the ripple effects of death.

"Our existence allows for good to go unrewarded and evil to go unpunished, nature's defaults."

Days ago, I might have been devoured by that cold logic, but with the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, there was an end to my inner anguish, replaced with a new feeling of peace. Its magnitude was unexpected, yet that made it all the more real, and now I knew, through all the hardship, I could value what I had more than ever.

There was a spurt of euphoria as I realized the untruth in the Champion's words.

Yes, it was time. My questions always had the same answer. _Destroy her._

I slammed the rock into the skull, cracking it in multiple directions.

I felt many bizarre sensations all at once. Had I just snuffed out the Night Mother? A deity over a thousand years old who I'd revered above all others?

The response of the skeleton was just as disturbingly indifferent and lifeless as from anything dead.

No doubt the brain had been damaged massively already, and if the brain was what was keeping her alive, that would have almost definitely been her death, but I couldn't take chances when dealing with something as monumental as the existence of the Night Mother.

I lifted my hand again, smashing the rock into the skull, this time cracking its face almost beyond recognition. As I saw my thought-out decisions in action, I began to feel more lucid.

I hit the skull again, making it look like little more than a pile of bone fragments and organic matter. And again, and again, until the brain matter and bone fragments were blended together. Again, and again, and again until the mass of squishy matter and juices was wider than tall. And again, and again, until there was little visible effect.

Then I dropped the rock, its underside tip darkened by some sort of liquid. I put my palms against the cold, stone altar, looking at the mess with no feeling of disturbance. That was peace for the world.

I sighed and relaxed, letting my mind take a slow, soothing swim in all I'd done. I felt lucky to be alive right now. I could still see, hear, taste, touch, and smell. I could still eat, drink, sleep, swim, read, and talk. Then I thought about the future...but I didn't know what the future held.

With that, I stood up straight and turned around towards the ladder.

Was I ready for the world above just yet? Minutes ago, I'd been a trusted member of Cyrodiil's worst enemy. Was I ready for that transition? Was I ready to look the world I'd terrorized in the eyes yet?

Yes, I was ready. It was time to get acquainted with the outside world, because delaying that wouldn't do me any good. I could look them in the eyes because the underworld I used to know was destroyed by my own hands. All the tragedies and crimes beforehand were a necessity to bring about this moment.

Yes. I could relax and open up.

I would no longer be burdened with guilt or fear of the truth or uneasiness in the face of criminal temptations, because they were all evils generated by my place in the Dark Brotherhood.

And the Dark Brotherhood was gone, after all.

Probably forever.

A/N: Well, that's it. That's the final chapter. That doesn't mean I'm done with this story yet: Now I'm going to go back and polish up the earlier chapters. A significant amount of the plot to this story was invented/modified as I went along, so there's probably not as much of a sense of connectivity through out the story as there could be. Similarly, I will now go back to earlier chapters and implement some of nightdragon's advice, as well as fix up other elements of the story that didn't originally turn out as well as planned.

Any advice you have for any component of this story is currently welcome (doesn't necessarily mean I'll comply, but I'll listen). After I give this story its final polish, then I'll change its status to "complete".

Anyway, a special thanks to nightdragon for his reviews and advice and M'aiq the Liar for her help with the lore early on.


End file.
